


Indigo

by fondlelarry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angst, Blowjobs, EDITED SPRING 2017, Fluff, M/M, There's also mentions of rape, Underage Drinking, and then a second time summer 2017, background ziam - Freeform, but it gets more storyliney i promise, but nothing graphic, handjobs, harry's not very good with his feelings, in the beginning it's very porny, so it should be bearable now, there is a bakery involved, there's a tiny weed scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-21 22:30:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 66,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/905705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fondlelarry/pseuds/fondlelarry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's kinda slutty, and Louis' kinda trying out the whole 'I might be gay' thingy</p>
            </blockquote>





	Indigo

**Author's Note:**

> Soo this is originally a chaptered story that i posted on my blog, but i figured since it's already done, i'll just post it as a one shot here!  
> All mistakes are my own?
> 
>    
> SOOO I've edited this, and first of all - WOW thank you to everyone who actually got through the unedited version cause u probably would've exited like 500 words in - The amount of typos and grammar-mistakes, not to mention the spacing (or lack thereof) is honestly a bit embarrassing.  
> So I hope this is better!! There might still be mistakes, and those are sadly still mine (i welcome beta's with wide, wide, wide open arms) 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
>  

 

 

The thing is, Harry is a very sexual being. He’s not a slut though. At least that’s what he tries to convince himself.

He’s only ever slept with two guys, and they were both his boyfriends. See? Not a slut. He has a very strict rule for himself, he only sleeps with boys he’s dating. No one else is allowed to push inside him, allowed to be a part of him like that.

And although that, that feeling of someone filling him up, is amazing in so many ways, he’s completely fine with it. Because there is one thing that he loves just as much, and sometimes maybe even more.

Harry loves to suck cock. He's loved it since his very first try.  
He was, what, eleven? Hanging out with a boy, Billy, who was one of his mum's friends son. Billy was thirteen, and a sneaky little bastard. He had managed to steal a bottle of wine from his mum, and he and Harry had emptied it within 30 minutes. It didn’t taste good, but Harry wanted to prove that he was just as cool as Billy, and so he ended up fairly drunk.

One dare led to another, and suddenly Harry was on his knees in front of the other boy, giving him a messy, yet successful blowjob.

And he’d been pretty much hooked ever since.

He’d started masturbating frequently after that, always using his tongue to clean his hand, as he for some reason just loved the salty and slightly bitter taste. He perfected his skills with his first boyfriend, sucking him off every chance he got, and after that ended, he blew most of his friends regularly till he got his second boyfriend. When that relationship ended, Harry was 16 and a half, he was already loosing his baby fat and boyish looks, and he’d managed to get a fake I.D that actually worked.  
He went clubbing almost every weekend after that, finding at least one new boy every time, and so yeah..  
He had no idea how many boys he’d sucked off by now. And maybe that is a tad slutty, but at least he didn’t just sleep with anyone, and that was something!

 Right?

He can’t really stop himself though. Sucking guys off is too much pleasure for him, too much fun. He loves, absolutely loves, the way the warm throbbing skin feels against his mouth, the way he can feel the heartbeat against his tongue.  
  
He loves running his tongue flat against it, feeling the vessels curl around them, like lines he can chase.  
  
He loves the taste, the taste that nothing else in the world can give him, a mix of sweat and precum and _skin._ He always dips his tongue in the sensitive slit, lapping at the tasty fluid that is gathering there, teasing himself with what’s to come.

It’s like a game: He milks these sounds and fluids out of someone else with his tongue and mouth and lips, and he always wins the grand prize when he feels that warm fluid shooting down his throat, making sure that it comes across his tongue for a proper taste first.

 

Harry is seventeen now, well, seventeen and four months.  
  
It’s Saturday, and he’s yet again at Indigo, one of the few gay clubs he’s been frequenting for several months, despite his age and the fact that his fake I.D doesn’t look very real at all. It’s a 45 minute train-ride away, and the club not the most decent one, but it’s the place where most people go for a hookup, and so it benefits Harry’s needs.  
It’s got a back-room, a long hall with some twists and turns that is always lit up with dark purple colors, and filled with guys doing this and that and what not, moans coming from every corner and a smell of sex ever lingering in the air.

And in a stupid way it’s perfect. It’s safe, as he doesn’t have to go home to a complete stranger, and his mum wouldn’t like if he brought anyone home with him either. It’s also warm, and not a dodgy alley.

And it’s kind of trilling, to have other people around you, doing the same things, making the same noises. Harry always tries to make his guy be the loudest.

He has already spotted the guy he wants tonight. He saw him about 20 minutes ago, but the guy has been sticking to a friend all this time, and though the two haven’t touched in any way, he doesn’t want to be the source of a conflict. So instead, he’s been standing at the bar, watching them carefully, but not creepily, to see if it’s fair game or not.

The guy is really hot, and the exact type of guy that Harry likes. His height seems to be around Harry’s, maybe a tad shorter. He is thin, but he has an extremely fit, round and perky bum, that is being showed off in perfectly fit skinny jeans, and Harry is definitely a bum-guy.

Oh, and he’s got a really nice smile. Well at least from what Harry can tell from a distance.

However, the boy seems rather uncomfortable, to be honest, glancing at the crowd every now and then, as if he’s not quite sure what he’s doing here.

  
Harry realizes he’s been staring a little to obviously when he moves his eyes up from that enchanting bum, and meet his friends eyes. The friend nudges fit-bum-guy and he turns around, looks right at Harry, before turning back to his friend. The two seems to have an intense conversation, before fit-bum-guy is being pushed in the general direction of Harry.

He turns around once, to which the friend gives a ‘subtle’ thumbs up, and soon enough fit-bum-guy is standing next to Harry, ordering a beer. Harry waits till the beer is put down and paid for, before he snatches it right before fit-bum-guys’ hand, and takes a big sip of it.

“Thank you gorgeous.” Harry says, adding in a wink, and takes another swig of the bottle. Fit-bum-guy mopes at him a little, before gathering himself and ordering another one.

“Uh, yeah.” He answers uncomfortably, and then he just stands there, hovering slightly next to Harry.  
  
Harry takes this opportunity to drink in fit-bum-guy’s appearance. He’s actually quite beautiful. Light brown hair, that is swept to one side, and blue eyes, he thinks, that shines slightly in the flashing colors that lights up the club.

“I’m Harry.” Harry says, sticking his hand out. Fit-bum-guy smiles slightly as he takes his hand.

“Louis.” He replies. Harry nods, and drinks the rest of his, well fit-guy-Louis’, beer before leaning in close to his ear.

“Dance with me.” He says, not really a question, and Louis bites his lip, uncertainty crossing his face, but he follows Harry anyway.

They start dancing, Harry finding the rhythm easily, while Louis is kinda stiff. Harry rolls his eyes, though he’s not really annoyed, and puts his hands on Louis’ hips bringing him closer. He pushes up flush into his bum, and starts to grind, guiding Louis.

Louis, thankfully, soon loses up and relaxes back against Harry’s chest, grinding his lower half as eagerly as Harry.

Harry tightens his grip on Louis, lowering his head so his mouth is by Louis’ ear and licks his lips slowly, letting the tip of his tongue graze his earlobe slightly. “You’re hot.” He whispers huskily, and he can feel the goosebumps that rises up Louis’ neck and up to his ears, followed by a flush heat. Louis doesn’t answer, just breathes shakily. “So sexy..” he continues, as his hands leave Louis’ hips to fold around his waist instead. Their dancing slows down, but they keep grinding against each other. Harry breathes warm air at Louis neck, before letting his lips ghost over his skin, and he can’t help the small smirk that curls over his lips as goosebumps immediately appears.

He opens his lips, sucking some of the warm flesh into his mouth, and feels Louis’ body relax further into him. “Wanna taste you properly..” He shares. He’s surprised at how needy his own voice sounds, like he’s lost control, but he doubts Louis notices by the way he takes a very deep breath, and nods, making his hair tickle Harry’s neck in the process.  
  
Harry wastes no time, as he takes Louis hand in his and drags him towards the backroom. He walks through it, determined to get to the back, and he feels Louis grip tighten on him as they walk past several moaning couples. They reach an abandoned corner, and Harry throws Louis forward, before pinning him up against the wall. He takes a proper look at Louis’ face, making sure he’s not actually afraid, that he wants this, before he attacks his lips with his own.  
  
The kiss is sloppy, needy, and not among his best ones. But he likes it, a lot, and after a few minutes of frantic tongue-battles and hair-gripping they slow down to a rhythm that feels extremely right, and yeah okay so maybe this is among the best ones after all.

He leaves Louis’s mouth, placing open-mouthed kisses down his neck, loving the way he can feel moans vibrating through Louis’ throat. He sucks in a few bruises here and there, before he falls down to his knees and undoes Louis’ pants. He can literally feel his mouth water, and he licks his lips hungrily, pulling his jeans and boxers down in one swift move.  
Louis’ erection springs free, standing in Harry’s face, and Harry smiles, thinking it’s fucking beautiful, just like the rest of this guy, and he leans in and just breathes at the sensitive head, and loves the way the cock twitches.

A hand soothes through his curls, and grips a little, tilting his head backwards.

“You don’t have to..” Louis says, his voice easy to hear as the music is much duller in here. He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, biting down hard as he looks at Harry.  Harry smiles genuinely at how ridiculously cute Louis is before he simply answers that he wants this too.

Their eyes lock until Louis swallows and gives a small nod, before letting go of Harry’s hair, and then Harry smiles and looks down again, concentrating on the treat in front of him. He licks his lips to make sure they’re proper wet before parting them and opening enough to get just the tip inside. Louis tenses immediately, and Harry brings his hands up to Louis’ hips, rubbing circles with his thumb. After a few moments Louis relaxes, and Harry shifts his attention back.

He sucks a little tighter, letting his tongue poke out to taste, and slides it over the slit. Louis moans loudly and Harry’s lips twitch upwards, as he retracts his tongue away again, and lets the taste set in. He likes it, well he always does, but this is one of the better ones. He opens his mouth wider then, taking in more, as he flattens his tongue down. Louis’ hands finds their way to Harry’s hair again, lazily stroking through his curls, and Harry moans in appreciation. The vibration makes Louis pull his hair slightly in return, but Harry doesn’t mind at all.  
Instead, he lets his hands move over to Louis’ bum, enjoying how each cheek fill his hands completely, and he squeezes as he sinks his mouth further down. He looks up at Louis’, and finds him with his eyes closed and his teeth still digging into his bottom lip, while his fingers continue to thread blindly through Harry’s hair.

Harry goes a little further up then, and clears his throat with the head still in his mouth. Louis’ entire body shivers, and then he opens his eyes and looks down at Harry. Harry keeps their eyes locked, as he bobs his head up and down slowly, seductively.

It’s safe to say that Harry’s kinda taken off guard when Louis’ body tenses after only a minute.

Louis barely manages to choke out a quick _‘Harry!_ ’ before Harry can feel him squirting into his mouth. He blinks a couple of times, feeling completely dumbfounded, but he manages to get himself together and sucks harder to get every last drop out, swallowing quickly in the process. Then he lets Louis slip out of his mouth and just stares up at him.

A part of him kinda wants to cross his arms over his chest and pout, and maybe even stump one foot on the ground, because he wasn’t ready to finish just yet. He didn’t even get to show of his best trick, or to tease properly. He actually doubts he’s ever made anyone come this quick.  
By the look on Louis face though, this was a new record for him as well - his cheeks are obviously flushed even in the poor lightning, and he’s averting his eyes, staring at the ground next to where Harry is still kneeling.

The thought that maybe this is the first time a guy has ever done this to him crosses his mind - it sure would explain how out of place he looked earlier - and he smiles instead.  
  
He stands up, pulling Louis trouser up at the same time, and zip’s and button’s them back on before he does something quite unusual - at a point where he’d normally wink cheekily and walk away, either to find someone else, or to go catch a train home, he leans in for a soft peck instead. When he pulls away he simply asks Louis if he’d like another drink, and at the answering nod, leads his conquest back out into the sea of dancing bodies.

Once they're back at the bar, the friend he had seen Louis with earlier appears. He grabs Louis’ arm and pulls him towards him, standing just a few feet from Harry. “Ready to go?” He asks quite loudly, so that Harry has no trouble hearing.

“What? No!” Louis replies as he nudges his head back towards Harry. The boy glances over at Harry, before putting his attention back at Louis.

“C’mon.” He says simply, but Louis shakes his head. His friend closes his eyes for a moment in a obviously annoyed matter. If the music weren’t so loud, Harry’s pretty sure he would hear a sigh. “No one here is up for seconds. It’s not that kinda place.” He says then, voice lowered, but still loud enough for Harry to hear.. He's right, well would be on any other night anyway, people doesn’t exactly come here to find true love.

“Well, actually, I am.” Harry says, and both of them turns to him. Louis is grinning. His friend though? Not so much. Instead he steps around Louis, like he's just an obstacle in his way.

“No offense, dude,” His tone is polite, but the way he grits his teeth is anything but. “This is your chance to get out. So maybe you should do just that. You’re not up for this, we both know it.” He's glaring at Harry, and fiercely so, it makes Harry feel small.

“Zayn..” Louis warns, pulling the back of his shirt slightly, however his friend, Zayn apparently, doesn’t budge.

“Louis, this guy is _not_ for you.” Zayn says sternly, barely even turning his head away from Harry. It’s obvious that he wants Harry to hear it, to let him know he’s not good enough apparently, and that certainly makes Harry feel offended.

 “You don’t even know me!” He says frustrated, because, seriously, what is up with this guy? “If Louis wants to have another beer with me, then Louis’ gonna have another beer with me!”

“No. He’s not.” Zayn replies matter-of-factly, and before Harry can protest anymore, Louis is being dragged away from him, stumbling over his feet and looking both confused and embarrassed.

Harry’s shook out of his stupor by a thump from behind it. He turns to find the bartender, who knows Harry quite well by now, slide another beer towards him with a half-hearted ‘tough luck.’ before walking a few steps over to attend to another customer.

 

After Harry has finished his beer, he takes a long walk around the club, checking the bathrooms and backroom, and scanning over the dance floor. With still no sight of Louis, he finally checks outside, walking around the block. He doesn’t search for long, all the streets are abandoned, so he accepts that they're long-gone, and finally heads for the train station.  
  
It's with a surprisingly heavy heart that he goes back home, hours before his usual curfew.

 

 

 

“Harry?” His mum asks surprised as he shuffles inside. She had given up trying to get him home at a decent hour a while ago.

He was always a stubborn kid, though his heart is in the right place, and she figured as long as he didn’t do drugs or anything else that could seriously mess him up - she’s sprung quite a few surprise drug tests on him to prove that matter- she’d let him have this. He never stays out late on school days, and he gets nothing but good grades, is always polite and helpful, keeps his room clean and does his chores without complaining. Basically, Harry is a really good kid, except for the whole _out drinking every weekend_ -thing.

Harry grumbles in response, sitting down on one of the barstools next to his mother.

“You alright?” She asks, trying to sound casual, though an undertone of worry is definitely present. Harry just sighs, leaning his head on her shoulder.  
They sit like that for a few moments, as Anne never wants to push him. He comes to her when he’s ready to talk, however bad or embarrassing the subject is.

“Am I, like, a bad person?” He asks then, making her almost chokes on the tea she's sipping on. She puts the cup down and turns towards her son, taking his face in her hands.

“No love.” She reassures, running her fingers through his wild hair. “You’re the best son I could’ve ever asked for.” He closes his eyes as he lets her massage his scalp gently.

 _  
‘Louis, this guy is_ not _for you.’_

  
Those words hasn’t stopped circulating in Harry’s head since they’d been said. It really bothers him, ‘cause what had he ever done to that guy anyway? He’d never even seen him before, he would’ve remembered a face like that.  
And still, he had spoken like he knew Harry. Like he’d seen all his secrets and everything that was to him, stripped him naked and examined him with a loupe. And apparently all he’d found was a shitty person that was nowhere near good enough for his friend.

It bothers him more than it should.

There was this _thing_ about Louis though, something that just pulled him in, and he's definitely not ready to let that go. Harry huffs. It’s ridiculous, that’s what it is. Honestly, what is it that’s so captivating about him anyway?

His eyes weren’t _that_ blue, and his voice weren’t _that_ sweet, and his bum weren’t _that_ fit.

But they were, and it was, and damn straight it was.

He sighs deeply again. Stupid Louis with his stupid body, and his stupid smile, and his fucking stupid premature ejaculation that left Harry wanting more.

He's drunk, he reminds himself. Well, not really, but fairly tipsy, and when he wakes up tomorrow he probably won't even remember that stupid, ridiculously cute - but nevertheless unimportant - guy. And with that thought in mind, he kisses his mother’s cheek and says goodnight with a smile.

 

 

\--

 

 

Harry wakes up the next morning with a frown on his face.

  
Louis is definitely not still painfully clear in his mind. Nope. No. Not at all.

He groans and runs his hands over his face, as if that would magically delete his memory. Like. The one that he doesn’t have. Obviously.

When he takes a long shower, despite the water not heating up properly these days, he does not think of blue eyes and feathered hair, or the taste-  that’s somehow _still_ stuck to the back of his tongue even though he’s brushed his teeth- as he gets himself off.

With pretty much nothing to do the entire day, not even nursing a hangover, Harry decides to actually do _something._ He takes his time, making a delicious breakfast and watching some reruns of QI, before he gets dressed and tries to figure out exactly _what_ to do. He tries to call a few of his friends, but none of them bother to answer, so instead he decides to go downtown. Maybe he can find himself a small bakery or café, he’s craving something sweet and a cake or pastry sounds just about right.

With a quick promise to get his mum something on the way back, he hurries to the train station, barely managing to get on the train before it takes off.

He walks around for a little while, before he comes across a small bakery that looks rather cozy and decides to go in there. The bakery has several tables at one end, and a register followed by a large glass display filled with cakes and other baked goods on the other. Except for an old couple sitting at one of the tables close to the windows, the place is empty and blissfully quiet.

He walks over to the display feeling his mouth water as he honestly wants to try every single thing. A man, probably in his fifties or so, comes out from another room and smiles politely at Harry as he’s trying to choose something. In order to not keep him waiting - and also because he feels awkward being watched - he decides that the red velvet chocolate cake looks way to good to ignore, and heads over to order that one along with a chai tea. It’s as he’s handing over a tenner that his eyes scans over the _now hiring_ sign propped up against a tall cake stand filled with cookies.

He stares at it for a second, biting his lip. “Are you taking in applications?” He asks.

“Sure thing son. You interested?” the man replies warmly, making Harry smile and nod.

“I might pop in tomorrow with a application letter, if that’s okay?” The man takes a look around the café, before handing back the change.

“Tell you what. I‘m kind of in a tight spot. Would you mind doing an interview right away?” Harry agrees quickly, and they walk over to a table, the man bringing along a coffee for himself.

They talk for a good 20 minutes, first getting the important stuff out of the way; name, age, experience, and the ever-annoying questions of what he as an employee can add to the cafe and work environment. After that they just chat. The man has three employees who works part time - two boys and one girl, all a little older than Harry, but the girl is moving away for school, and it had been short notice. Harry decides to be honest and tells him that the only experience he has was a few hours here and there for his uncle’s store last summer, and that he’s never worked with bakery-related stuff, but he loves to mess around and try new things in the kitchen at home.

The man seems pleased with that and eventually tells Harry to come back the very next day to start his training. He’ll get training and a tryout-period of two months, and then he’ll hired properly after that - if everything works out. Harry finally shakes the man's hand, and buys some croissants and another piece of that red velvet cake to take back home, humming to himself as he tries to remember the way back to the train station.

It’s safe to say that his mum is delighted, both with the job and the pastries. They share them while talking about the papers he’ll need to hand in the next day, followed by some small-talk before getting started on dinner, neither mentioning the night before.

 

\--

 

Harry arrives at three the next day.

Samuel, the owner of the bakery, shows him the small back room, and leaves him some privacy to put his things down and tie on an apron. Harry quickly pulls out his papers, and then patiently waits for Samuel to finish with a customer before handing them over. He promises to look it over the same night and come back with a schedule before the shift ends the same night.

Harry will be training with the two other guys, and after the training period ends and the girl leaves, he’ll be working night shifts alone, just like the others do now. On Saturdays they'll work two together, rotating between the four.  
  
After a quick briefing around the place, Harry gets to work cleaning up messes and gathering dirty dishes. The clock has turned four before he knows it, signaling the end of Samuel's shift, and that it’s time for one of the other boys to take over. Harry is in the kitchen, plating some cookies when Samuel calls him back out to meet his co-worker. He places a few more cookies before carrying the plate back, nearly dropping it when he looks up; his eyes land on a familiar black quiff and brown eyes, and Harry can’t help the muttered _'fuck’_ that escaped his mouth.

“Zayn,” Samuel says kindly, “meet our new colleague, Harry.” Harry tries to be professional and give Zayn a smile and a small wave, only getting an ice cold glare in return. It doesn’t last long though, as he apparently remembers that Samuel, _his boss_ , is there and puts on a scarily fake smile. “Nice to meet you, _Harry_.” He says, his voice practically dripping with venom.  
  
Harry gulps, and nods in response, as he really doesn't trust his voice at the moment.

“Alright!” Samuel says, clapping his hands together. “I’ll be in my way then! See you boys later, good luck!” After a moment of awkward silence and staring between the two boys, Samuel leaves, and within seconds so does the only customer in the bakery.

Harry isn’t sure if that's fortunate or not.

He turns to Zayn, making a weird questioning sound in the back of his throat. Zayn raises a eyebrow in what might be classified as disgust before walking into the backroom. When he comes back out, his jacket and bag is replaced with an apron and a bottle of some kind of syrup that he neatly lines up with the others next to the coffee maker.  
  
And then they just stand tensely beside each other.

“Did I, like, do something to make you hate me?” Harry asks, not daring to look at Zayn, finding a scratch on the counter interesting instead. The only answer he gets is a sarcastic puff of air, and then he's gone again.

Harry sighs, but puts on a polite smile as a customer enters through the door. “Hi, how may I help you?” he asks as the blonde walks up to him. The guy just grins in return.

“You must be the new lad then!” He says, with a thick Irish accent. “I’m Niall, I work here as well!” Harry smiles brighter at that, at least he seems nice, compared to the brooding boy in the back.

“I’m Harry.”

“Nice. You like it here so far?”

"Yeah, it’s ..nice.” Harry replies, casting a glance back towards were Zayn is probably throwing darts at a printed out picture of him. Or something similar to that.

“Zayn here yet? You gonna like him, he’s a little shy at first, but he’ll warm up to you soon enough. Funny lad.” Harry resists the urge to roll his eyes, and instead nods slightly and moves his thumb in the direction of the door to his right.

“Ey, Zayn!” Niall calls out, startling Harry. Soon enough the he walks out, sporting a real smile for the first time that day.

“Ni! What'cha doing here?” He asks, completely ignoring Harry’s existence. Harry tries his best to shrink in on himself and pretend he’s not there anyway - it feels uncomfortable to listen in on a conversation he knows will include himself, especially this one. Still, it would be rude to just walk away, wouldn’t it, so he stands there running his thumbnail back and forth in the scratch. Hopefully not making it any worse.

“Just checking out the new lad here. I like him!” Zayn casts a glance sideways at Harry before shrugging indifferently, making Niall laugh loudly. “What, afraid he’s gonna steal Liam from you?” He says, having difficulties to get the words out while laughing. “I dunno if he’s for Liam anyway. Seems more like Louis’ type!” He then adds, and Harry can't help but straightening up when he says that.

“Louis?” He asks, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice. Zayn on the other hand, stiffens.

“Yeah! He’s a friend of ours! Good lad, easy on the eyes as well. I mean, if you’re into that..? It’s totally fine if you’re not! Obviously! I mean, I'm not, so.” He holds his hands up in a somewhat defensive way. Harry’s smile widens.

“Yeah, no, I absolutely am.” Harry assures, pretending not to feel the murdering look that is directed towards him from the sidelines. “Maybe you should bring him around sometime.” Harry suggests then, casually. "It’s always nice to meet new people!” Niall agrees right away. Niall’s phone dings, and he immediately pulls it out, grinning as we swipes his thumb across the screen. “Anyway, I gotta go, got a lunch date with Susan. Have fun at work lads.” He says distractedly, blindly bumping Zayn's fist but looking up for a split second to give Harry a nod. He's almost at the door when he turns around to face them again. “Ey, Harry, what’s your last name?”

“Styles.”

“See you soon then!” And with that, he leaves. Harry continues to stare at the door, hoping _praying_ that a customer will walk in, preferably _before_ Zayn can murder him with one of those big knifes in the kitchen.

“Are you an idiot?” His voice is harsh, and Harry can't help but bite his bottom lip when he turns to face Zayn. The boy looks quite angry, arms crossed over his chest and his eyes squinting so hard they  appear to be nothing more than two black stripes.

“No?” Harry replies, trying but failing, to keep a steady voice. Zayn exhales and opens his mouth, probably to yell at him, but Harry cuts him off quickly. “Listen. I don’t know why you resent me. I don’t know what I’ve done to you. But I swear, I’m a nice guy! And I can’t get Louis out of my head.” Zayn doesn't say a word, simply stares at him with a emotionless expression. “And I’m not gonna touch Liam, whoever that is..” He adds, but immediately regrets when Zayn looks more furious than he’s ever done before.

“Don’t you dare mention him.” He spits through gritted teeth

“Okay! Okay. Sorry.”  
  
Zayn sighs then, his arms falling down to his sides. “Just.. Let’s focus on work okay?” Harry nods in agreement, deciding that the best thing is to keep his mouth shut. That’s how they spend the rest of the day, serving customers, restocking up on the different items and Zayn showing Harry a few basic stuff. The only things that will take time to learn is the baking and remembering how to make the different types of coffees, the rest is easy.

About half an hour before the shift ends, Samuel shows up again, and hands both Harry and Zayn the new schedules. Zayns hours are like before, the only changes on the timetable is Harry's added hours, so that they’ll all known who’s training him and which days.

Harry is working Monday and Friday afternoons with Zayn and Wednesday's with Niall, as well as every Saturday throughout the month. Samuel works all Sundays alone, as they are only open from ten to two, with few customers, making it perfect for him to organize and do the paperwork.

“Just for now.” Samuel adds. “You’ll be working Tuesdays and Fridays alone and every third Saturday after the tryout period is over.”  
  
He learns through Samuel, who's quite a chatty man, that Zayn and Niall are both at UNI, Zayn only taking a few classes and therefore working seventy percent, while Niall works part-time, like Harry, and he stays with them all the way through closeup, him and Zayn both showing Harry the routines.

Once the day is over, Harry and Zayn walks five minutes in the same direction in complete silence, before they go different ways. “See you Friday.” Harry says quietly as they part. Zayn simply glances at him.

  
  
When Harry gets home, his mum has some dinner waiting for him, and he heats it up as she makes herself a sandwich, before sitting down to talk about his day and how it all went.  
  
Harry isn’t completely honest about the situation with Zayn though, - _‘You see mum, I sucked one of his friends off at a shady gayclub downtown, you know, one of the ones I get into with my fake I.D,  and I want to meet up with him again, but Zayn doesn’t think I’m good enough for his friend, and therefore tries to keep me away from him and doesn’t want anything to do with me either.’ -_   just doesn’t sound like the right thing to tell your mother, no matter how close they are.  
  
Instead he just says that Zayn is kinda hard to get to know, the kind of guy that is closed in on himself, and that he doesn’t quite know how to break that shell. His mum tries her best to give him some helpful advice. It only makes him feel a little guilty.

  
After eating, Harry gets himself ready for bed, then shuffles under his duvet with his computer, going through all his social media. He smiles to himself when he sees he has a friend request on Facebook from ‘Niall Horan’ and accepts right away, starting to snoop on his profile, chuckling to himself at a few of his statuses and pictures.  
He physically jumps when a sound suddenly burst out through his way too loud speakers. After turning the volume down, he clicks the notification seeing that Niall has sent him a link saying _facebook.com_ / _profile_ followed by a series of numbers. He opens it in a new tab, deciding to answer Niall’s question on how his day was first, which then leads to Niall sharing his own first day experience. It's quite the story.

 _'So whatcha think? '_ Niall asks, leaving Harry dumbfound for a few seconds before he remembers the link, and changes tabs.

His heart definitely stutters when he sees ’Louis Tomlinson’ written across the tab bar. He grins stupidly as he looks roams Louis’ facebook page. His profile picture is one with Zayn, the two of them obviously at a party. He enlarges the picture, staring at the beautiful smile that he remembers oh so well, before curiosity gets the best of him and he looks at his info instead.  
He's three years older, well more like two years and a little over a month, seeing as Louis’ birthday is in December and Harry’s in February, but older nonetheless - that’s definitely not a bad thing.

' _Like him?'_ Niall prods. Harry nods stupidly, before he remembering that Niall can’t see him.

 _'He’s rather beautiful.'_ He replies, before working his way back through Louis’ previous profile pictures.

 _'Haha, had a feelin hed be ur type. Well more like ud be his, but it gotta go both ways so.'_ Harry smiles, but ignores him in favour of looking through the pictures once more, and then venturing into the ones he’s tagged in.  
  
‘ _U known ur gay for a long time then?_  
_Or like, whatever u are’_

 _‘Yeah, basically always new.’_ Harry replies, not really minding that Niall is so forward, he seems nice anyway. And it's not like it's a secret anyway.

 _“Lou just began to realize ya know. He met this one guy on a night out that convinced him with a bj  
haha  
but I dunno, don’t think there’s anything more there so_ ’

Harry swallows around the lump in his throat.That had to be him, there’s no way it’s not. But why couldn’t there be anything more? Louis seemed pretty into it - Harry definitely was. Sure, Indigo's not exactly the place you to to look for true love, but occasional hookups are the perfect way to get into the scene.

‘ _Why isn’t there anything more?’_ He types and sends within seconds, this time leaving the tab open as he anticipates the answer.

‘ _Dunno really. Somthin bout zayn saying the bloke is a jerk i think._ ’ Harry sighs. Figures.

 _‘Hm_ ’ He replies absentmindedly, feeling his heart sink. He wonders how close Zayn and Louis really is, and if Zayn could actually put him off Harry for good. He hopes not.

 

He has gone through about half of the pictures Louis is tagged in, when he stops at one. It's from an album called ‘Australia 2012’ by someone - mother? sister?- named Johannah Tomlinson. It doesn’t really matter because there is Louis, in profile, wearing a tight wet suit and sunglasses. Harry can feel it go straight to his crotch. He tells Niall he has to go do some homework that’s due the next day, and switches his chat to offline.

Harry quickly goes through the rest of Louis’ pictures, picking out some favorites and opens them in different tabs. Most of them are of his entire body, some just his face, all looking _very_ good. When he’s picked out the best ones he organizes them in order from innocent to sexy - the one from Australia being the last. He sets his computer aside, and wriggles out of his bed covers, before stripping out of his boxers. After making sure the door is locked, he crawls back on the bed and places his computer so that it’s resting on his knees, hopefully out of range.

He's already sporting a semi at this point, and it doesn’t take many strokes while looking at the first picture, before he is fully hard. He takes a last look at the picture before exiting it, and concentrates on the next one. He works his way through the pictures like that, stroking himself slowly and teasingly at first, but quickly going more erratic as that bum comes into the frames.

When he opens the final picture, he's already really close, and he moans a little too loud as he takes in Louis' figure. He stares at it for a few seconds, before his head falls back,  eyes closed. It's as if he can smell and feel and _taste_ Louis everywhere - for a second he wonders how on earth he can ever do this without thinking of Louis again.  
  
He’ll deal with that later.

His hand works faster, halting only to slide over his head and press his thumb against the slit. Images fills his head; Louis doing this to him, or _him_ doing this to _Louis_ \- hearing his broken moans and feeling his warm breath on his skin, fingers tangling in his curls. And Harry would finish him off by taking him in his mouth, sucking and tasting, and squeezing that perky ass at the same time- and with another forceful tug, Harry’s back arches, and he spills warm over his hand.

He sighs, falling back against the bed, dragging two fingers over his abdomen and then sucking off the come that he gathers, pretending it's Louis’ and not his own.  
Then, he finally curls into himself, and falls asleep.

 

 

\--

 

The following day and a half goes by ever so slowly.

Harry tries to not stalk Louis’ facebook, and succeeds at that. Well, except for two times.  
  
He's having mixed feelings about working with Niall on Wednesday; wondering if Louis'll show up, and what he will say if he _does_. Not to mention whether or not Zayn has turned Niall against him as well. He's also wondering if Zayn or Niall have told Louis that Harry have started working there. He can’t really imagine that they haven’t, which means there's a big chance that Louis won’t show up at all.

Most of all though, he just really hopes Niall doesn’t hate him.

  
Harry sighs as he push upon the door ten to four, and is greeted by the sight of Zayn behind the register. Right; he works day-shifts as well. Zayn is busy with a customer though, so Harry goes to the back and gets ready without them exchanging any words. When he gets back out however, there’s only the two of them, accompanied by a _lovely_ tense silence.

“So..” Harry says says eventually. “Have we informed Niall that he should hate me?” Zayn makes a small noise. Harry's not exactly sure how to categorize it, thought he thinks it's affirmative. “And have we told him _why_ he should hate me?” Harry continues, trying for casual.

“Yes we have.” Zayn answers.

"And are we gonna tell _me_ why we hate me?” Zayn just looks at him for a second, giving him a look that says practically spells out  _as if you don’t know_. Harry sighs. He really wishes he did. “Whatever, I’ll probably get Niall to tell me. He seems like a blabbermouth anyway.” Zayn actually snorts _and_ sniggers at that, before seemingly remembering that he doesn’t like Harry, and turns his back to him instead.

When Niall walks in, 5 minutes later, he’s definitely more guarded than he was last time they met.  A quiet “Hi.” is all Harry gets as he passes him.

“Hey Niall.” Harry replies, trying his best to sound cheery. Niall gives a small smile but hurries into the back, were Zayn is getting ready to leave.

“This whole thing is stupid.” He hears Niall say.

“It’s not stupid.” Zayn replies in a hushed voice.

“This is your Goddamn problem Zee! If you just talked to him, I’m sure he’s got a good explanation for it. I don’t wanna be dragged into this- _whatever_ it is, and I’m pretty sure that Louis don’t either.” Harry definitely perks up at the sound of that.

“Louis agreed with me when I told him.” Zayn argues.  
  
“Yeah, well, that was when he thought he’d never see Harry again.”

“Yeah, well," there's a pause there, just a second too long. "bros before hoes.”

“Not when the bro is being unreasonable.” Niall replies sternly. After that their voices drop in volume, and Harry can’t make out the words anymore, try as he might. He does feel a small spark of hope though knowing that Niall doesn’t seem so set on icing him out. Not to mention there’s a chance he’ll get to see Louis again.

Zayn leaves with a muttered goodbye, closing the door after himself and leaving nothing but silence behind, as the two of them start mindlessly organizing random things just to keep their hands busy. Well. That’s what Harry’s doing at least.  
See, he wants Niall to be the one to break the silence and breach the subject, so that he himself doesn’t come across as demanding and pushing. However, he's also bubbling over with excitement at the hope of getting to sort everything out, and it’s taking far more self-restraint to keep quiet than he thought it would.  
  
When more than a few minutes has passed and Niall _still_ haven’t uttered a word though, Harry just can’t stop himself. “Look, like, I’m sorry that I’ve made this mess, however I made it-” He swiftly cuts himself off from that potential rant, as he can already feel the frustration practically consume him. ”I don’t want to come between you and your friends. But I don’t know what I did, and that makes it impossible for me to fix it or explain myself.”  
  
Niall stops organizing the pastries in the glass display, and straightens up with a sigh. “It’s just.." He starts, brows furrowed and arms crossed. "Zayn is kinda protective of the people he care about, you know. And.. I like you, honestly, I think you seem like a cool bloke. But then Zayn told me about Louis and all of that, and I can’t really say that I appreciated you lying about not knowing who he was. I don’t like dishonest people.” Harry frowns. It is completely fair, he doesn’t like dishonest people either, and he certainly doesn’t like being one of them.

“But what was I supposed to say? ‘Oh Louis? Right, I sucked him off, and then Zayn pulled him away and said I was bad for him.' Not really the first impression I wanted to make.” Niall gives a crooked smile at that, making Harry feel a little more relaxed.

“Yeah, no. But you could’ve told me when I sent you the link to his facebook profile..”

“I know. But I was just so excited to see his face and his smile and his _bum_ again.” Harry says, not able to hide the dreamy look he knows have taken over his face. Niall laughs loudly at that.

“I understand your frustration though.” He says, before bending down and over the glass display again. “We’ll have to throw away the rest of this cake today. So how bout we eat a piece each, and I’ll fill you in on your story." He grabs the platter, telling Harry to get plates. "We're not usually supposed to do this.." He half-heartedly informs, adding that the unspoken rule is that they eat the stuff that's too old to be sold _after_ the place is closed for the day. Niall apparently doesn't take the rule to heart though, as he plates two slices of apple cake, accompanied with a dollop of canned whipped cream, and leads Harry over to the table closest to the counter.

“Okay..” Niall starts, but doesn’t continue. Instead he takes a large spoonful of cake and pulls out his phone whilst chewing. He taps the screen a few times, swallows, and looks back up again with a serious expression. “Okay, So Zayn has a boyfriend named Liam.” He explains, putting extra pressure on the name. “They’ve been dating for almost a year now, and Zayn loves him, and is really protective of him.” He gives a pointed look, so Harry nods once to show that he's paying attention. “When they first met, Liam was very new with the whole gay-thingy..” He continues, before letting out  sigh as he leans forward. When he continues, it's less explanative and more straightforward, blunt.  “Okay, so a few weeks earlier, Liam had met a guy at a party, and they chatted all night, and then the guy blew both his dick and his mind, and he was kinda smitten. Very smitten, let's be honest. But when he was done, and Liam wanted to grab another beer with him, the lad replied with a harsh ‘ _no thanks, desperate isn’t a good look on anyone_ ’ and shoved him out of the way..” Harry has a bad feeling about where this is going, and he knows he is right when Niall shows him his phone, the screen displaying a picture of a familiar face.

Well that explains it.

“Shit..” He mutters under his breath, rubbing his hands over his face and into his hair.

“Yeah.. You were his first anything, you know, and he was really, like, nervous and unsure, and he’s a very decent guy, not the kind to sleep around _at all_. He thought you seemed like such a great guy and you..”

“I was a jerk.”

“Pretty much.” Harry sighs and closes his eyes.

“But I’m not though. I swear.” Niall just keeps quiet, shrugging his shoulder a tad, seemingly indifferent as he cuts another piece of the cake, dipping the spoon into the whipped cream before shoving it into his mouth. For some weird reason it feels like a small punch to the guts.  “When I met him.. My boyfriend had dumped me earlier, and he was the first - the only - guy that I’ve ever actually loved. Like, I literally, I told him ‘I love you’ that day, and he said that was the dumbest shit he’d ever heard and that he’d been cheating on me for weeks and laughed in my face. And then Liam was just super kind and sweet, but I was upset and wanted to get my mind off my ex, and you know, that was the easiest way.” Harry looks pleadingly up at Niall, and is relieved to see softness in his features, like he’s sympathizing, or maybe even pitying him - it doesn’t matter.  
  
A thoughtful "Hm." Is all he offers though. Harry can’t hold his gaze for long, quickly returning to the piece of cake that is now picked to pieces on his plate. He picks at it some more.

“I wasn’t- I couldn’t start something with someone, like we broke up only hours prior to that. Hell, even a friendship with anyone seemed impossible right then. My mind was all over the place. I swear I’ve honestly felt bad about that ever since, like, it’s been this little thing nagging in the back of my mind.” Harry jumps when he feels a gentle hand on his arm that is resting next to his plate on the table. He looks up just as the door opens.

“I’ll tell them, okay?” Niall says as he pushes his chair back. “They’ll understand.”

Harry only has time to nod before the customers are at the display case. He quickly gets up as well, making his way to the register and pulling out his most charming smile as he uses his hip to gently push Niall away, and awaits his instructions; he's supposed to learn how to do things after all, so he should probably do that. The three chatty ladies orders coffees and cakes and then sit down at a table and gossip for a while. When they finally leave, Harry busies himself cleaning the table, while Niall does lord knows what to the espresso maker, and then they sit back down at their table.  
The cake is dry at the top and the cream is more watery than it is whipped. Harry still keeps picking at it, eating a small bite every now and then but keeping far off from the bottom of it, where the cream has turned it into a muddy, cold mush.

“But why would Zayn send Louis over to me in the first place, if he hated me for what I did to Liam?” Harry asks, picking up where they left off.

“He didn’t know. Found out afterwards.” Niall explains, pausing to take a spoonful of his own soggy cake. Harry wrinkles his nose. “Some dude approached him and told him his friend was going to have the best blowjob ever, that _‘Harry had quite a reputation_.’ And then Zayn texted Liam and said Louis was off with a hot young guy with curly hair named Harry, and he would presumably be gay by the end of the night. And Liam figured it had to be you, since he’s seen you there before.”

“But you’ll tell them, right? You think they’ll give me another go?”

“I’ll tell them, and yeah, I think they will, but it might take some time with Zayn. He knows how to hold a grudge.” Harry has no trouble believing that.

“Do you think I have another shot at Louis?”

“Probably. If you can convince him you’re not a jerk.” Harry beams at that, feeling a lot better than he did when he came in. He will show Louis he is a kind-hearted, sweet, genuine guy.

And then he’ll have his wicked way with him.

 

 

\--

 

 

He doesn’t hear a word from any of them for days, and soon enough it's Friday, and he’ll be working his second shift with Zayn this week. He finds some consolation in the fact that he has the rest of the weekend off; If things are still really awkward and tense he'll just go out tomorrow - or maybe even tonight, get completely pissed and pretend to forget about it all ‘till Monday. He’ll deal with it then.

Harry has taken his facebook-stalking to a new level, and has hunted down Zayn and Liam as well. Though, like, it wasn’t too hard considering Niall is a mutual friend. Alas, where Liam’s profile is public and very easily accessible, Zayn's is anything but - he can’t even see a bigger version of his profile picture, let alone any information besides his birth date and where he’s from. Harry’s considered sending him a friend request, but he eventually decided against it, not wanting to create _any_ possible issues.

 

He arrives a good ten minutes before his shift starts - mostly because he practically ran from his bus stop to try and avoid getting completely drenched in the rain. He's jittery as hell as he enters the bakery, eyes immediately searching for that black quiff. A quick look around tells him he has arrived before Zayn, and he lets out a relieved breath.

He quickly makes himself ready for work, and then helps Samuel making some coffees while they chat cheerily with the three women donned in long raincoats and boots, as well as umbrellas that are halfway folded and dripping water all over the floor. They're clearly regulars, as they all refer to each other by name. It's incredibly nice, makes him feel comfortable and like he belongs here, somehow, as a part of this place and the people surrounding it - even if he does get flustered when they address him by name, as he can't for the life of him remember theirs.  
It's a good start to his shift, takes the nervous edge off, and definitely makes him more positive regarding the rest of the day.

"Hey, Harry, Zayn just texted. His bus is late.”

“Oh.” Harry replies, not knowing what else to say. Samuel's body-language and tone indicates that there’s more to come.

“Yeah, and I have to leave at four. Gotta pick up my girls from school. Is it okay for you to be here alone for like 15 minutes or so?” Harry sucks bottom his lip into his mouth and digs his teeth into it. He's definitely nervous about facing customers alone, seeing as he doesn’t even know half the coffees, but it's not like he has a choice, really.

“Yeah, no, that’s no problem.” He replies, sounding way more confident than he is. Samuel leaves a few minutes later, and for the first time Harry is hoping that Zayn will be arrive as quickly as possible.

  
The first ten minutes thankfully drift by without a single customer.  
During the eleventh and twelfth minutes, a woman comes in and orders a black coffee to go and then leaves. When twenty-five minutes has rolled by, two more customers have bought coffees, and one girl has flirted shamelessly with him whilst purchasing some cinnamon buns.

It’s all fine and well and he’s managing, but Samuel had said fifteen minutes, and twenty-five is a lot more than fifteen, and Harry's taking turns looking at the time and the entrance. He realized round about one minute in that he actually doesn’t have any way to communicate with Zayn - they haven’t exactly exchanged numbers, and there's no notes or lists or _anything_ with phone numbers on them.

So. He's a bit worried. And anxious.

It's pouring down outside, and he knows from personal experience that rain plus bus does not equal love, as he has missed several classes and other important things for that very reason. So, for all he knows Zayn could be an hour late, or two, or maybe he wont show up at all. Maybe the bus skidded of the road and is lying in a ditch right now, and he would have no clue. He doesn't even have Samuel's number, he realizes. Though surely Samuel has a way of contacting him, should anything happen?

Five minutes pass, and yet another customer comes in. The man is wearing a long beige coat that’s definitely more wet than it is dry, despite the dripping umbrella in his hand.  Well, it’s not surprising that it hasn’t done much to keep him from getting soaked as it's practically raining sideways at the moment. Harry casts a longing glance at the door.

Harry can easily tell that this is the type of person who makes him feel small and insignificant: his presence demands attention and the way he holds himself is authoritative and certain.  
He's probably in his thirties and he's dressed in a impeccable suit - save for the wet and dirty pants legs - whilst his left hand has a tight grip around a small black, leather suitcase. His hair seems lifeless with the boring grey-brown colour combined the way it’s gelled to the side, there are wrinkles scattered over his forehead, and his mouth seems to be in a natural frown.  
  
He shakes his umbrella madly, making the entire entrance wet and slippery, and then takes his time looking over the room before moving towards a table next to the radiator.  
He carelessly slings his briefcase on one chair, then shuffles out of the wet coat and drapes it over the heat radiator, despise the note above it that very clearly states ‘ _Do not put any fabric or other objects over the radiator.’_ He huffs, clearly annoyed, as he turns the jacket over twice to locate the pocket containing his wallet and then marches up to Harry. Harry gulps, feeling his body is shrinking in on itself at the harsh glare edged into the man's face.

“Um, excuse me?” Harry says, as nice and apologetic as he possibly can, once the man has stopped to look at the cakes in the display. He tries to seem calm and professional but his voice fails him, of course. “I’m afraid you can’t hang your coat over the radiator.”

The man barely even looks at him as he answers, unsurprisingly donning the same voice and tone one would use whilst talking to a small child  “My coat is wet. The radiator is warm. I want my coat to dry.”

“Yeah, erhm, but it’s for safety reasons.” Harry tries, to which the man simply rolls his eyes. Harry opens his mouth to speak again, but he honestly has no idea what to say and ends up staring dumbfounded at his customer instead.

“I want a piece of that cake.” The man says after another beat, pointing to the blueberry crumble cake. “But it looks dry, so I’m only paying half price.”

“It’s supposed to be dry. It’s a crumble cake?” The man just glances at Harry for a second, before turning his attention back to the cake. Harry’s pretty sure he’s never been this at lost in his life. Nor this uncomfortable. “It’s fresh, baked this morning..” He adds for good measure.

“It looks dry. I’m not paying full price for an old cake, and you have no proof of it being anything but.” A small staring contest follows, but Harry feels himself grow smaller, suddenly turning back into a four-year-old with his dummy in his mouth and teddy bear in the crook of his elbow and no understanding for the grown-up world. Unwillingly, he turns around and grabs a plate, placing a piece of cake on it. He has a feeling this will come off of his salary.  
  
“And a caramel macchiato.” Harry's breath leaves him in a rush, his shoulders slumping furthermore. It is one of the coffees he has never made, and he has absolutely no idea how to do it.

“Um, I’m under training..” Harry explains hesitantly, getting an unimpressed glance in return. “I’m afraid I don’t know how to make that one.”

“Well, I don’t fucking _care_ if you’re under training. I’m a customer, you work in this coffee shop, and the sign says you have macchiato, so you will serve me one.”

“But-” Harry starts, borderline desperately. He swallows his words though, when the man cuts him off by repeating the last sentence so calmly and quietly it honestly sounds like a death threat.

  
Harry's just standing there, gaping like a fish out of water, when Zayn walks in.  
He's soaked to his bones, not having an umbrella or a raincoat, and once he's stepped inside he shakes his hair out like a dog. All traces of his usual quiff are gone, his hair now splayed sloppily across his forehead. His cheeks and nose is pink and his lips much paler than usual.  
And still, he manages to look like a model.

The man turns around taking in Zayn's appearance for a second and quickly labels him another customer. “This place is shit.” He spits. “The kid tried to sell me old cake for full price, and he doesn’t even know how to make a fucking coffee.” Zayn smirks in return.

Harry can feel his eyes stinging with frustration. He’s sure that all it will take is one word about this to Samuel, and he will be unemployed before he’s even properly hired. His throat is tightening, making it harder to breath and he has to bit down on his lower lip to stop it from trembling.

Zayn smiles kindly at the man before he walks behind the counter. The man is clearly surprised by this, as his eyes momentarily widens and his mouth tightens in on itself.

“Well, sir, this cake,” Zayn starts, picking up the plate sitting on the counter. Harry takes a step back to give him some space. “is a crumble cake. It is supposed to look dry, but I can assure you it is moist on the inside, as it was baked earlier today.” His voice is so overly fake and polite that Harry can’t help the smile that's twitching at the corners of his lips, frustration turning into relief. “As for the coffee, _sir_ , Harry is in training and does not know how to make all the coffees yet. But I am sure he already told you that. There‘s no need to be rude about it, I will happily show him how to make it.” The man looks nothing short of dumbfounded as Zayn starts ringing him up. “So if you will please just pay for the coffee and the cake, we will shortly bring them both over to your table.” He gestures towards the only occupied table in the room, before tacking on, “Oh, and please remove your coat from the radiator, it’s a safety hazard.”

“The kid said I'd get the cake for half price, and I expect that for the coffee as well, as I had to go through all this trouble! Not to mention the wait!” The man protests, squaring his shoulders and straitening his back. He's practically looming over the both of them, but where Harry would've run of with his tail between his legs, Zayn simply sighs.  
  
“I’m certain Harry never promised you such a thing, sir. You will pay full price for both, and remove your coat, or you can escort yourself out.”

“This is the worst treatment I’ve ever gotten! I’ll report you both to your manager, give me his number!” He demands. To Harry’s surprise, Zayn writes down both of their names along with a phone number on a piece of paper and hands it over with a kind smile.

“Good luck with that, sir.” Zayn replies, as he hands him the piece of paper. The man snatches it from his hand before stomping over to gather his things and heading back outside, not even bothering to put the coat on.

Just before he opens the door, Harry calls out “Have a nice day, sir!”. The door slams so hard it rattles even over the sound of the rain.

They both start laughing as soon as he's out the door.

 “God,” Zayn says, a smile still in his voice. “I hate customers like him! Those kind of people sometimes gets lost in the streets and end up here.. Thankfully Samuel despise them just as much, so you don’t have to worry about losing your job.” Harry’s laugh is laced with relief, and he’s sure Zayn can tell.

“Okay, good.” He responds, turning to look properly at Zayn. “Thanks. I really didn’t know what to do.”

“No worries.” He assures, his smile genuine. Just like that, it feels like a lot of weight have been lifted off of Harry's shoulders. “Hey, I’m sorry I judged you without really knowing you..” Zayn starts uncomfortably, but Harry quickly cuts him off.

“You had every right too.” He says. They leave it at that.

 

 

After taking a few minutes to clean and mop up the wet mess the man had left, Zayn shows him how it make the macchiato. “It’s good,” Harry says, sipping the coffee, “but I still prefer a latte or mocha.” Zayn smiles and nods in agreement. He still snatches the cup from Harry's hand to take a mouthful himself.

“Yeah, I know, we don’t sell a lot of them.”

“Just to snobby businessmen, huh?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” He agrees with a chuckle. He slicks his wet fringe back, yet again, the water only holding it back for a few minutes before he has to repeat the movement. He'd dried his face and hands with a kitchen towel, his hair too but that hadn't worked much.

“Hey, aren’t you freezing?” Harry asks belatedly, seeing as Zayn is still dressed in his wet clothes, fabric clinging to every curve of his body. 

Zayn shrugs with a half smile tugging on his lips. “I’ll live.” If it weren't for the barely noticeable shivers that run through his body every few seconds, Harry would probably believe that the boy actually didn't care at all. Alas. Harry snatches the cup back and drains it.  
  
“You know.. There are these things, you might have heard of them? One is called _umbrella_ and the other _raincoat_ , and they’re excellent in this kind of-” Harry’s rudely cut off by a hand smacking the back of his head. The cup slips out of his grip just as he's supposed to put it on the counter, clanking loudly, as it drops on the side.

“Shut up! Liam took the only umbrella to school, and I refuse to use a _raincoat_.”

“What, are they not cool enough for you?” Harry teases. Zayn simply shrugs, which has Harry bending over in laughter - even more so when he looks up to see Zayn's floppy, wet fringe over his forehead yet again, perfectly paired with the scowl on his face and his crossed arms.

"Fuck you." He grumbles. It takes a moment, but eventually Harry catches his breath. His thoughts catches up to him as well, he mentally slaps himself as he pulls his shirt over his head. Well, _technically_ , his shirt _s_ , seeing as it's a red t-shirt on top of a white long-sleeved one.

“Here.”  He peels them apart, and holds them up to Zayn. “White sort of see-through with long sleeves, or solid t-shirt?”  
  
Zayn gapes. “You’ve been sitting here with two shirts the entire time, while I’ve been freezing to death?” He asks in disbelief as he grabs the t-shirt.

“I forgot.” Harry admits sheepishly, putting the white one back on. Zayn quickly makes his way out of his button-up shirt and drops it on the floor, before grabbing another kitchen towel in an attempt to dry himself further. He wipes at his chest and arms before throwing it to Harry and turning his back to him.

“Any chance you’ve got two pair of pants on as well?”

 

 

Harry would rather _not_ talk about how he ends up in nothing but a see-through sweater and his boxers. Nor how Zayn ends up commando in his jeans. _,_ Although, it did involve something along the lines of a pouty lip, sad puppy eyes and some not-too-convincing sneezing and sniffling and coughing.  
  
Harry is standing behind the counter, an apron covering down to right above his knees, and the counter covering the rest. Zayn has rolled up Harry’s pants, as they're too long over the legs. He spent the first fifteen minutes complaining about the tightness of them, but eventually Harry had kindly told him that he would be more than happy to wear his tight jeans himself, and that had finally shut Zayn up.

 “I still can’t believe you tricked me out of my jeans..” Harry huffs, making Zayn giggle gleefully. The bastard. That giggle turns into a muffled cough however, when a customer walks in and up to Harry.

She orders a latte. Harry knows that she can’t see he’s not wearing pants right now, but he also knows that if he takes a step back to make said coffee, she definitely will.

“Zayn!” He calls, as he deals with the register. Zayn doesn’t appear, but Harry can still hear his muffled laugh from the other side of the wall. His cheeks heats up as the woman looks at him with raised eyebrows, waiting for him to make her drink now that the payment is all taken care of. “Just- just go sit down, we’ll bring the coffee to you.” He says with a polite smile. She somewhat hesitantly nods and walks away.

Harry calls for Zayn again, trying to keep his voice at a natural volume and to not sound too irritated or embarrassed or _desperate_ , but he’s stuck there, directly behind the counter, as the woman has taken a seat with a perfect view towards him. She takes out a book and starts reading. Harry still doesn’t dare to move in case she looks up.

“Zayn..” He repeats warningly, and finally the boy pops around the corner with a stupid grin on his face. “She wants a caramel latte.” Harry says, glaring. Zayn just smiles innocently. He fills the metal jug with milk and starts steaming it, before he turns to look at Harry from over his shoulder.

“Harry, would you be a dear and go get some caramel syrup?” He asks loud and clear. The woman looks up for a few seconds before returning her gaze back to her book. Harry closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, as he tries to will the undoubtedly red color away from his cheeks.

“I’m busy, Zayn.” He replies. Zayn holds back another laugh.

“Oh, sorry. You just keep doing your thing then.” He replies through a grin that he makes sure to hide from the woman's view.

Harry starts busying himself with straightening up some stuff around where he can reach without moving, and it’s so obvious he’s doing something just to do _something._ He desperately hopes the woman won’t realize that. Zayn comes back with a bottle of syrup, and puts it aside with a grin, before lifting up another bottle with caramel syrup that’s not even half empty, and using that one. His face is stretched into that stupid grin throughout the entirety of the coffee-making-process.  
When he goes to clean the milk steamer, he ‘burns’ the side of his finger and hisses like he is in pain. At first Harry actually thought something happened, looking up in half-panic but quickly gathering his wits when he sees the idiot. Besides, the hiss didn’t really sound like hiss at all, as he’s smiling and trying not to laugh at the same time. It sounds more like he’s trying to make cricket-noises.

It is enough to get the lady’s attention though. She lowers her book for a second as she glances at them. “I burned my finger.” Zayn states loudly, pout out on display. Harry squeezes his eyes shut - it’s not hard to guess where this is going.

“Better get that coffee out right away then, so you can rinse it under cold water as quickly as possible.” He says with a low voice, and Zayn, the bastard, all but beams at him before he composes himself again.  
  
“Oh, okay..” He says dejectedly, his voice keeping the same volume to ensure she's catching it. As the woman watches, he pretends to wince as he lifts the hot glass and carries it out to her with a sorry excuse of a smile. As soon as his back is turned to the woman the grin reappears, and Harry takes a moment to glare at him, glancing over at the woman. He's met with a steely stare and a almost invisible shake of her head - way too similar to the one his mum gives him when she’s really disappointed and angry at the same time - before she turns back to the book, lips in a thin line.

If Zayn had passed him on the way to the back, Harry would've pinched or hit or kicked him. Well it's probably for the best that he doesn't get a chance to do that with the customer still there. He'll sure as hell make up for it once she's left though. The idiot walks to the backroom and puts the tap on full force, the stream audibly being cut off in random intervals as he presumably runs his fingers through the stream.   
A few minutes later, Zayn walks back out again with a big, wet wad of paper rolled around his finger. He holds it tightly whilst trying to look miserable, but when Harry leans in and whispers that he’s never, ever doing him a favor again, he laughs joyously.

Harry briefly thinks things were much easier when they weren’t talking at all.  
  
The woman finally finishes her coffee, much to Harry's relief, because chances are that means she’s leaving and that he can finally move. Zayn is still squeezing the paper around his finger, when he follows Harry’s gaze and sees the woman put her bookmark in. He walks over to the lady, as she’s rummaging through her bag and picks up her glass. “Such an awful rainstorm, don’t you think?” He asks. she agrees casting a glance out the window. “Would you like a second coffee?  On the house off course. Maybe the weather will calm down soon.” The lady smiles sweetly at him.

“Why, thank you, that is very sweet of you.” She says, and puts her bag back down, book still lying on the table.

“I’ll be right back with it then.” Zayn says warmly, and adds “Another caramel latte?” walking away as soon as she affirms. “Could you put this one in the dishwasher?” Zayn asks Harry sweetly. Yet again, the woman is staring at him, watching his every move. Harry gives him a smile. _I hate you_ he mouths while scratching at his ear as a means to hide his lips from her view.  
  
“Just gotta finish this.” He replies loudly, gesturing towards - well nothing really, but mainly the counter. Ish. “I’ll do it in a second.” He adds as the woman lowers her head to continue reading.

“Thanks, love.”

Harry nods, ruffles a few papers, moves a pen next to another one. He flicks some crumbs down on the floor, reads a post-it-note that he's read a hundred times before - _key moved to second shelf_ -, writes a note to Zayn - _fuck you <3_ \- and is about to replace the napkin on the cake stand the cookies are displayed on, when there’s a sudden burst of something loud and drum-heavy ringing through the cafe, making him jolt enough to nearly knock the whole thing down. As soon as he registers that the woman is twisting around to fish her phone out of her pocket, Harry seizes the moment; he grabs the dirty glass and runs into the back, quite pleased that he know gets to hide in there till she’s gone.

It’s only a few moments later that he hears her exchanging words with Zayn, shortly followed by the annoying tinker the bell over their door makes whenever it’s opened, and then Zayn walks in, a huge smile on his face, as he throws the lump of moist paper in the bin and wipes his finger at Harry’s jeans. “You’re such a jerk.” Harry says. Zayn doubles over in laughter.

“She gave me a ten pound tip!” he says, flashing the money. “Said I was _‘such a warm and welcoming barista’_ , and that I should use them _‘on something nice for myself.’_ ” The glare Harry throws at him doesn’t damper his good mood at all. “Oh come on, lighten up. I might buy you something nice.” Zayn teases. “Like a pair of pants or something…”  
  
Harry can’t help but crack and laugh along at that, but he quickly reconciles by grabbing Zayn’s wet shirt and throwing it at his face. “I’m just ravishing in the fact that you have to walk home in cold, wet clothes later.” He says.  
  
Now _that_ wipes the stupid grin right off.

 

It’s 30 minutes till they close up when Harry’s mum calls, it makes his mind swarm with worst case scenario things automatically, as she’s supposed to be working till 11 tonight and only uses the phone for important things when she has a minute to spare. “Mum?” He answers, trying to keep the worry out of his voice.

“Hi love.” She replies cheerfully. Harry breathes out in relief.

“I thought you were working?”

“I was, but they had more staff than they needed, so they let me and one of the other extras go home early. So I just got in the car.”

“Ah, okay.”

“I was wondering if you wanted me to pick you up, actually? The weather is horrible and I’m already out driving.”  
  
“Yes, yeah, that’d be great! But I’m not off ‘till 8 though.”

“I know, but I wanted to see the place anyway. Might even buy a coffee and give you some tip. I’m sure you haven’t had a lot of customers today..”

“Not exactly, no." He answers chuckling. "So when are you here then?”

“Five or maybe ten minutes?”

“Alright. See you then!” Harry hangs up and turns to Zayn, who’s already looking at him, not even trying to pretend he wasn’t listening in.

“Your mum’s coming?”

“Yep. She's picking me up on the way home from work. But she’s already on the way, so she’ll hang out for a bit.”

“Alright, cool.” Zayn says with a slight shrug and a smile, before he turns to continue washing the tables.

“Yeah, so can I have my pants back please?” Zayn looks up at him with panicked eyes. Ah, sweet, sweet revenge.

“What? No!”

“I don’t want my mum to see me at work in my boxers, Zayn.” Harry explains, making Zayn’s mouth drop even further. He even takes a step back, as if he’s gonna make a run for it.

“What, and you want me to _meet_ your mum with my willy hanging out?!”

“You can put on your own clothes.”

“Harryyyyyy…” He whines, his bottom lip sticking out and his eyes wide and pleading. Harry grins, incapable of keeping his face serious for any longer. Sure, his mum will be surprised to see his work attire, but she’d never approve of Harry making Zayn wear cold, wet clothes and get sick. Zayn looks pitiful for all but two seconds, before he gets it and cracks a relieved smile.

“You’d deserve it though!”

When Anne comes, 8 minutes later, Harry's washing the surface of the glass-display. He turns to her and smiles in acknowledgement, but continues his work as the soap leaves annoying stains if it's not washed away soon enough.  
  
“Harry, baby, I know you like to walk around as nude as possible, but is that really proper work attire?” Although Harry can tell by her tone that she’s teasing, curiosity aside, he can’t stop the warmth that creeps up his cheeks. "I mean, you do work with food, after all."

“Muuum..”  He whines, hearing her laugh silently behind him. He wipes away the residue of water that has pooled in the bottom corners as she puts her bag down on the nearest chair. Zayn walks out from the back where he was emptying the dish washer just as Harry stands back up.

His mum is striding over immediately, her hand stretched out and smile warm, “Hi, I’m Anne, Harry’s mum.” She introduces. Before Zayn has a chance to respond, she adds, “Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t those Harry’s clothes?”

"Um," he stutters in reply, a hint of a blush rising to his cheeks.

“You see,” Harry cuts in, making sure his accent is extra posh. “Zayn here doesn’t believe in umbrellas or raincoats. He’d much rather trick people out of their clothes.” He teases, making Zayn’s cheeks turn from a soft pink to a deep red.  He slaps at Harry’s arm in a weak attempt to ..do something, who knows, either way it doesn’t work.

“Oh don’t worry Zayn,” Anne says sweetly. “Harry’s usually the first to shed his clothes anyway.”

“Oookay, mum! Coffee? Coffee!” Harry exclaims as he puts his hands on her shoulders and pushes her towards the table that already hold her purse. He should’ve known she’d side against him. Still, he likes that there’s no awkward atmosphere present, as often is the norm when a parent is around. It's actually rather nice, and they spend the rest of the opening hours chatting and eating the cupcakes his mum purchased in between the mandatory routines.

  
Eventually, Zayn sighs pushing his chair out. The door sign got flipped to _closed_ ten minutes ago, and all that's left to do is turn the lights off and lock the door on the way out. It's not raining much at the moment, but then again it's been coming and going in showers all day. They should probably take advantage of it. “I’ll go change then.”   
  
“But aren’t your clothes still wet?” Anne questions, to which Zayn shrugs. “You’ll catch a cold, where do you live? We’ll drive you home.”

“I live in the opposite direction of you guys, it’ll be a big detour. Really it’s fine, nothing I haven’t done before.”

“Nonsense, we’ll drive you! Just gather your stuff in a bag, I’m sure Harry won’t mind you borrowing his clothes till the next time you work together.”  
  
They both turn to Harry, who nods in affirmation before adding, “But you better drive the car up front though, I’m not walking ‘round town in my underwear.”

  
“This isn’t far from my job actually.” Anne says - well more like half-shouts, with the rain now thundering down on the car and drowning out everything else - once they've parked outside Zayn’s flat. It' s a pretty nice brick building, three floors with two or maybe three apartments on each floor.

“Thank you so much, Anne.” Zayn says as he unbuckles himself. “And I’ll see you on Monday then Harry?”  
  
“Yep!”  
  
“M’kay, again; thanks!”

“No problem, Zayn.” Anne assures. Zayn draws a breath as if to phase himself before he throws the door open and bolts towards flat complex. He's raised the bag with his clothes in over his head like a shield, and when he runs his knees go almost up to his hips, making him look like a ridiculous cartoon character. It is incredibly amusing, and his mum seems to agree, if her snort is anything to go by.

Harry turns on the radio as Anne navigates back home. The windshield wipers can’t do a proper job so the view is limited, and it’s a nice distraction as it requires all of his mum's full attention, leaning almost over the steering wheel in an attempt to gain better sight of the road ahead. The pace is slow, but Harry's always liked roadtrips and the likes, so it doesn't bother him in the slightest. Especially not when one of his favorite songs is playing, accompanied by the sound of raindrops hitting the car. It's a bit soothing, somehow.

Still, Harry can practically feel how deep in thought his mum is, and it’s confirmed when she parks in the driveway and turns off the radio, but lets the car run. “What?” he sighs.

“That‘s the guy you were talking about the other day, right?” She asks after a moment of silence.   
  
“Yeah?”

“So you guys worked it out then? He seemed very nice, and you know… open. Not at all what I expected.”

“Yeah, we sorted it out.”

“Good.” She nods, probably more to herself than to him. There’s still more on her mind, he’s sure, but he moves to open the door anyway. The engine cuts off right after he’s closed it behind himself.

Harry's honestly relieved that he doesn’t have to go out and drink his sorrows this weekend. It's weird, really, but he just doesn’t feel like hooking up with random blokes at all. Not since Louis anyway. Which make no sense, really, but it feels like Louis is this .. _project_ he has started, and he wants to finish it. Though he doesn’t really know what ‘finishing’ it means in this case.  
  
He’ll figure it out as it goes.

 

And so; on a Friday night when he’d usually change into some tight clothes and get ready to hit town, he throws on some sweatpants and a loose hoodie instead, and walks downstairs. “Not going out tonight?” His mum asks as he makes his way into the living room.

“Nope. Want some tea? Maybe we could watch a movie?” He suggests, to which she easily agrees. They end up catching a quiz-game marathon that's on, so they settle on watching that instead. It's not particularly funny, but it's entertaining, and it's easy - not having to follow a plot line or, like, think.  
  
During a commercial break in the second episode they watch, Anne mutes the TV and turns to Harry. “Zayn is very handsome.” She states. Harry can’t help rolling his eyes, because _there we go_.

“His _boyfriend_ would definitely agree with you.” He returns, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh. So you’re not interested in him then?”

“No.”

“Okay.” Anne says, focusing on something above his right shoulder for a few seconds. “So there’s someone else then?” She finally asks, although it sounds more like a statement. Harry bites down on his lip, but doesn’t answer. Doesn’t really know what to say. “Who is he?” She pushes.

“He’s uh- He’s just this guy.. There’s nothing going on. Not yet at least. I don’t really know him.” She hums, accepting his answer, and then un-mutes the telly again it. All Harry wants to know is what the hell gave it away. Is he really that transparent?

When Harry returns to his room a couple of hours later, he finds that he has two friend requests; one from Zayn and one from Liam. Although he's a bit surprised by the one from Liam, he accepts it with a smile. After checking all his social media and the other sites he visits daily, he ends up boredly looking through different Zayn's profile which with a click here and a click there leads him to Zayn’s sisters friends brothers page. What? He's cute.  
Nowhere near Louis though. Obviously.  
  
He decides to push that thought away, and instead watch a new show he’s taken a liking to lately. Only, halfway into the episode he realizes he actually has no idea what is going on as he can’t pay attention. So he gives up. And finds his way back to Facebook, and more specifically - Louis’ profile.

There are no new statuses, he hasn’t not posted nor been tagged in any photos, no new friends, or comments or _anything_ since last time. For weeks, actually, if his wall is anything to go by. So Harry looks through his photos yet again, just for something to do. He’s definitely not prepared and his heart definitely jumps when a chat window with the name _Louis Tomlinson_ pops up. The first thing that goes through his head, is that Louis has some kind of ‘see who’s on your profile’ app, because he knows they exists - well, he’s pretty sure at least - and now, now Louis' gonna tell him to stop being a fucking creep, and get over him. And he’ll say that he doesn’t want anything to do with him at all, that he should stay away from Zayn - and Liam and Niall too, because he had them first! Harry will have to quit his work and and- Harry's basically frozen, his eyes glued to the chat box. The little icon letting him know there is one message waiting for him.

Maybe he could just ignore it, pretend he never saw it? Though, he _is_ online, and Louis probably knows that. Well, maybe not actually? Don’t you have to be friends to see that? It’s not like _he_ knew _Louis_ was on. Then again, if he has some stalker-buster app he already knows Harry is there. And. Shit.

What the hell.

He gnaws at his lip  as he clicks the chat box. There's no going back now, the tiny version of his profile picture will pop up in the chat, and there'll be no doubt. He actually honestly closes his eyes, he's so nervous, everyone’s allowed to be nervous sometimes. After a few seconds he squints one eye open, and then realizes how ridiculous he’s being and opens the other one as well. He reads the message once. Then he stares at each word individually. Then he reads the sentence three more times.

Then he closes his eyes as he takes a deep breathe, before he looks over the message, the name, and the message again. Yeah okay, he had read right the first time.

  
‘ _Is it crazy that I went to Indigo tonight, just incase you might be there?’_

 

Harry’s not sure how to answer that. Seriously, like- What? Of all the things he were expecting, this was definitely not it. Honesty is probably the way to go though, if Louis is any example, so he only hesitates a little bit before he types out his reply.

 

_'Is it crazy that I didn’t go out tonight, just because I was sure you wouldn’t be there?’_

_  
_ He press enter right away, knowing that if he doesn't he'll overthink everything in that sentence and never send it at all.

It's insane, how quickly his heart is beating, how nervous he feels, almost as if his hands are shaking, and he actually wipes his forehead a couple of times, though there isn't any sweat there. He watches as the profile icon appears, three dots next to it. They disappear and then reappear several times before he finally gets a message.

  
_That is quite weird..’_   The message it says. Harry doesn’t know what to answer, though a small smile does cross his face, so he just waits. Louis starts typing again only seconds later.

_‘I got to talk to some regulars though.._

_You have quite the reputation.’_

His lip is starting to feel a bit sore to be honest, but that doesn’t stop his teeth from sinking deeper. He really, really doesn’t need Louis to know things - he's made a bad enough impression as it is. And he's sure some bitter hook-up will be happy to blabber tales of untruths. Wouldn't be the first time.

 

‘ _Only good things, I presume?’_

_‘Well that depends, doesn’t it?_

_None of them were directly bad though.’_

_‘Then what did they say?’_

_‘Something along the lines of you being the one everyone wants but no one can really have. That you have a new guy every night but you never go home with them and you never do them twice._

_Apparently, you never sleep with anyone either.’_

Harry sighs. Well, it's true. It makes him sound a bit like a jerk though and Louis will no doubt agree. Probably think he's afraid of commitment as well. Which, he's not. It’s just..

 

_‘Well, I’m not gonna lie. All of that is basically true’_

_‘When I said you blew me, and then asked me for another drink, they said I must’ve misunderstood or something._

_Since you would never do that.’_

_‘Normally I don’t.’_

_‘Then why would you bother with me?’_

_‘You’re.. intriguing.’_

_‘Why?’_ Harry runs his hands over his face. Why indeed. There's something about his eyes, his smile, something alluring that irks his curiosity-  But it’s not like there haven't been other people with a marvelous bum or a pretty face, with cheeky lines or a captivating smile. It's just hard to put a finger on what’s so special about _him_.

He can’t say it's his personality either, as he doesn’t even know him. His charisma, maybe?

 

‘ _I uh.._

_I don’t really know, to be honest..’_

Is what he ends up sending, and when Louis doesn’t answer for another minute, Harry's scared he might think that Harry's bullshitting him or even worse; trying to seem uninterested. He wishes he could just take that answer back. He should've gone with charisma instead.

   
' _I don’t know why I’m pulled towards you either.’_  Louis finally answers, making Harry relax again.

He simply answers with a smiley face.  
  
Louis doesn’t answer that - what would there be to answer anyway? apparently chatting online is not his thing - and Harry dosen’t know what else to say, so, after a few minutes, he opens another tab and begins looking through an online newspaper instead. Another five minutes passes before the facebook tab blinks, saying that Louis Tomlinson has written a new message.

 

_‘Why don’t you sleep with anyone?’_

_  
‘I feel like sex is kinda a big deal, and if I do that with anyone and everyone, that makes me a real slut, you know?_

_Like, I try to tell myself blowjobs and handjobs aren’t as slutty..’_

_‘Hm’_

_‘I’ve had two boyfriends though, and I’ve slept with them'_ He adds, though he's not quite sure why he feels the need to.

_‘I’ve slept with four girls, so it seems I’m the slut.’_

_‘Most guys at 20 have a higher number than that.’_

_‘I’m not really that type of guy_

_Plus_

_Two long relationships and two shorter ones. Haven’t really had the time to sleep around.’_

_‘Haha  
  
I’m choosing to go with the ‘you’re not the kind of guy to sleep around’-explanation. _ There's a moment where Louis types and re-types something a few times, but eventually the dots disappear all together. Harry gives it another minute before he continues.  
' _Why were you looking for me?’_   

 

_‘I wanted my second drink.’_

_‘We could meet up at Indigo tomorrow?’_

_‘I’m having a boys night with Zee, Li and Ni.’_

_‘Ah. next weekend then, maybe?’_

_‘..ooor, you could join us tomorrow?’_

_‘I don’t know if that’s a good idea?’_

_‘The guys like you now. And there will be beer. It wont be awkward or anything.’_

Harry types out slowly, hesitantly. _‘Okay.’_ _  
_

_'Yeah?_

_you’ll come?’_

_‘If you’re still sure about it tomorrow. You’ve probably been drinking. Might change your mind when you’re sober’  
  
_

_'I wont.  
  
see you tomorrow!  
  
Night’  
  
_ A friend request pops up at the same moment, and Harry accepts it. Louis' status has changed to offline, so Harry turns off his computer as well, and goes to bed.

   
  
\--

 

 

It's Niall and Harry’s turn to work together at the bakery that Saturday.

They're working from ten till five and, for the first time since Harry started, there'll be some baking involved. They'll make bread - though the dough's already made and half baked and then frozen, so they just have to pop them in the oven for 20 minutes - but they also get to bake cupcakes, and then frost them, and that’s what Harry's looking forward to. Harry had soon come to realize that Samuel does a lot of preparing on Sundays and mornings so that things won’t be so hectic, but they always have fresh cupcakes on Saturdays, and the icing therefore have to be made the same day.

Harry excitedly arrives 15 minutes early, just in time to find Niall twisting the keys in the lock. After having done the usual morning routines, they get the - pre-made, of course - batter into cupcake molds and into the oven. As they cool off, Niall whips up the frosting while Harry helps a few customers, it's not the best to divide the work in Harry's unbiased opinion, but he does the polite thing and keeps that thought to himself.

He musters up the courage to casually plead to do the decorating though, is mentally prepared and all, but Niall just shrugs and gives him the equipment.   
"Just like, start on the middle and swirl it up." Is his helpful advice, as he dips his ring finger into the yellow frosting and scoops up a decent sized glob that he hastily jams in his mouth so that nothing will spill. "We're not supposed to do that, by the way."  
  
It takes him a few tries to make get the swirl right, having to carefully spoon the failed attempts back into the bowls, but once he does, he quickly finishes all of them, and then decorates the cupcakes with small sugar flowers in different colors from a pack Niall threw on him. At his arm, actually, whilst Harry was mid-swirl, which resulted in Niall going _'_ _woops'_ and putting the cupcake aside, since they couldn't sell it like that. When Harry had tried to suggest he'd just do it over, Niall had silenced him with a glance that spoke louder than words.  
  
With the cupcakes displayed in the glass-counter-fridge and a new batch of bread in the oven, Niall splits the wonky one in half and hands it to Harry. "Cheers." Harry says, and Niall dunks their two halves together.  
  
“So, you’re hanging out with us tonight, huh?” Niall says, biting into it with a pleased sigh.

“Um, am I?”

  
“Didn’t you chat with Louis last night?” Niall asks, turning to him with a puzzled expression.

  
“Yeah.. But I thought he’d be either too drunk to remember, or too drunk to still mean it today..”

  
“Nope, texted me this morning, told me to bring you after work.. If _you_ still want to?” Niall raises an eyebrow at him. Harry’s face warms at the scrutinizing look.

  
“Yeah! ..Yeah.”

  
“Alright then!”  
  
  
It's surprising how quickly the day passes. They have quite a lot of work to do, but it's consistent, not coming in rushes, and so the day just drifts by without making them overly stressed or tired.

 

When they're closing up it really doesn’t feel like he's been working any longer than a regular night shift.  Which is a blessing, really. And it means he'll probably want to keep this job for a while. Though, the days may not be as entertaining when he starts working the evenings by himself.

  
While Niall calls Liam to ask if they should pick up something on the way, Harry calls his mum to let her know he’ll be home late. “Are you really going out _that_ early?” She asks just as Niall cackles a few feet over. He presses a finger against his other ear.  
  
“Not going out, just hanging with some friends. Coworkers and stuff.”

She hums in understanding, it sounds almost.. pleased? “Let me know if you need me to pick you up though, I have another late shift tonight, so I could pick you up around 11:00 if you’d like.”

“I’ll let you know later, kay?”

“Of course sweetie, have fun!”

“Yeah. Thanks. Bye mum.” Harry hangs up and turns to Niall who's still on the phone, nodding his head silently. After a few seconds of that, he ends the call and informs Harry that the boys wanted them to pick up some pizza, as they have already gathered a healthy supply of beer and snacks. Niall calls in a order of three pizza's as they wait for the bus, and half an hour later they’re walking up the stairs to Zayn and Liam’s flat with the the cardboard boxes warming up their hands.

Zayn’s the one who opens. He gives Niall a fist bump and Harry a smile, before he pulling them into the warm flat. Then, he takes the pizzas and disappears. Harry bends down to neatly place his shoes next to Niall’s and when he stands up again he's startled by a vaguely familiar face standing right in front of him. With the rest of the boy attached, obviously.

“Hi Niall!” Liam says, smiling. He pulls him in for a hug, and once they let go Niall bolts from the hall with a shout of  _Gimme_ _pizza!_.

“Um. Hey.” Harry says, rubbing at the back of his neck. He's unsure about whether or not he should greet him with his name, seeing as they don’t actually _know_ each other, and he really doesn't feel like making things more uncomfortable than they already are. However, Liam’s smile is warm and void of awkwardness.

“Hi Harry.”

“Hi Liam.” Harry parrots, only blushing slightly at greeting him twice. God, the night is gonna go horrible if he's already fretting over trivial things like _that_.  In the short silence that follows Harry can't help but take in Liam's appearance - he certainly looks different from the one in Harry’s memory.  
His body's bigger, not only taller, but more muscular as well. His hair is different too, he thinks - he’s not quite sure how it looked last time, but now it’s short with a small quiff at the front. He’s pretty sure it used to be longer.

What he notices the most however, is how confident and happy he looks, nothing like the nervous shy kid who was all hunched in on himself like he was trying to be as small as possible as not to get into anyone’s way. He still has that innocent cute look about him, but it's different now, more like he owns it, instead of it owning him.

“It’s really good seeing you again.” Harry belatedly says. He finds that he means it as well, maybe even more than just as a means of clearing his conscience and make things easier with Zayn.

“You too.” Liam replies, his smile sweet, genuine. Harry lets out a breath before clearing hos throat. Liam is still somewhat in his way, and to brush past him now would probably not go down well. He might as well address the elephant in the room.

“I’m sorry about.. you know..” He's stuttering and blubbering and probably looking just as stupid as he feels, but Liam gives him an easy out though.

“Don’t worry Harry, everyone makes mistakes, yeah? Let’s just start over.” He nods in relief and agreement, but Liam has already turned around, so he adds a  quiet ’thank you’ as they emerge from the entrance and into a hall.  
He gets a quick tour of the flat; the bathroom is the first door on the right, guest bedroom the second. Zayn and Liam’s bedroom is straight ahead, and then on the left is a kitchen and living room combo. The flat might not be huge, but the simple decor makes it seem open and warm. As they make their way to the kitchen, Harry avoids looking into the living room, not quite ready to face Louis. He already knows his there, as his laughter echoed in the hallway earlier. Liam vaguely gestures at the bench and small table and then finally the fridge where he walks over to grab a beer. Harry accepts it with a smile, before turning to face the living room.

He stops in his tracks, his smile slowly leaving his face as his eyes set on the three guys looking back at him. Zayn and Niall gives him genuine smiles. Louis, on the other hand, is just staring back.  
  
Harry knew Louis would be here, was completely prepared for it even, yet he’s never ever felt as awkward as he does in that moment. Well, nor as thoroughly checked out, he might add, as Louis’ eyes are roaming over his body, his hand stopped midair with a slice of pizza in it, his mouth slightly open waiting on the food. Harry swallows thickly, staring back, before he stupidly waves his hand and pulls his face into a grimace that will hopefully pass as a weird smile. It seems to shake Louis out of his frozen state, as he too smiles quickly, nods, and then let his hand continue its journey to take a huge bite.

As Harry follows Liam over to the couch, he notices that the TV is on but the volume is too low for him to hear what they say, but no one seems to be trying to pay attention anyway. Niall 's sitting on one end of the couch, the one closest to the wall. He’s got a greasy slice of pizza resting directly on his knee as he chews and types away at his phone. Harry wrinkles his nose - there’s a pile of napkins bearing the name of the restaurant on the table, right next to the stack of plates.  
Next to him sits Louis, carefully studying the pizza in his hand as if it's the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. There’s a gap between him and the chaise where Zayn's is sitting. Said boy spreads his legs so that Liam can crawl in-between them, exchanging a kiss and a plate. This leaves Harry the, now considerably smaller, space between them and Louis, and no choice but to sit there. Well, he could always go for the floor, but he's pretty sure that would make matters worse, especially now that Louis is scooting closer to Niall and Liam tucks Zayn's leg closer to himself, before looking a Harry and patting the cushion once.  
He sits down gingerly, trying to scoot a little closer to Zayn than to Louis. He gathers his legs as best he can, crossing them even, but unfortunately the sofa isn’t the biggest, so he ends up with his left knee touching Zayn, whilst still being able to feel the warmth radiating from Louis’ body on the right side.

He reaches forward, grabbing a slice of pizza and then sits back uncomfortably.  
  
Uncomfortable. That's a good word to describe how he feels right now.

Harry's trying his best to pretend Louis isn’t there, staring at the commercials that are on the tv, and he can sense how Louis is doing the same. He can’t really hear what they’re saying, not even if he concentrates - which he hardly puts an effort into anyway, distracted as he is by Niall tapping away on his phone and Zayn and Liam whispering to each other, and Louis, like, existing.

As he bends forward for another slice, he quickly glances over at Louis who’s seemingly picking invisible lint off of his t-shirt. God, he shouldn’t have agreed to this.  
  
_Actually_ , why would Louis even invite him in the first place, when he’s acting like this? It’s not that Harry thought they’d be all buddy-buddy right away, but Louis could at least acknowledge his presence.  
He’s definitely taking his mum up on the offer to pick him up. For a brief moment he considers pulling out his phone to send his mum a quick text saying just that, but settles against it when Niall finally puts away his phone.  
  
Besides, who knows if he’ll even last _that_ long.

“Ey, lovebirds! You’ve got guests, stop being couple-y and start entertaining us!” Niall snaps, but there's a somewhat fond smile on his lips. He can see Louis’ lips curl upwards in the corner of his eye and it makes him relax a bit. A teeny tiny one.

“Right, uh..” Liam starts, Harry can’t help but snigger at the red color his cheeks has donned.

“Movie?” Zayn suggests, to which the rest of them agree, to Harry's great relief.

After a little discussion - in which Harry doesn’t really partake - they decide to watch Transformers. They’ve all seen it before, but none of them wants to watch anything that’s so intricate that they actually have to pay proper attention anyway, so it’s a easy choice. Liam gets up to get some snacks, while Zayn pops in the movie, and turns off the ceiling lights, the latter making him feel more at ease, even if he still is hyper-aware of the body next to him.  
When Liam sits back down he hands a bowl of crisps to Harry, who grabs a handful for himself and then wordlessly passes it to Louis, marking the second acknowledgement of each other's presence that night.

They watch in silence, apart from Niall’s loud - and frankly borderline annoying commentary during the movie. The beer keeps coming, and with each sip Harry's happy to feel the tension slipping away, feeling more comfortable, or maybe just less aware of the boy breathing beside him. He even leans further away from the cuddly couple next to him - as to give them some privacy. or, whatever - which in turn brings him closer to Louis, whom either doesn’t notice or doesn’t mind.

About halfway in Harry goes to fetch some more beers, and when he gets back he somehow ends up with his body lined up against Louis. Eventually, Louis’ arm ends up around his shoulder, and towards the end of the movie Harry finds his head halfway resting on Louis’ shoulder, wondering why on earth he had felt so awkward earlier.

At one point, Niall mutters something about being a fifth wheel. They all ignore that.

  
Once the movie is over, Zayn and Liam shares a look, before they wordlessly get up. They come back shortly after, Liam with five shot glasses and Zayn with a bottle of vodka. Liam puts the glasses on the table, and while Zayn fills them up, he grabs two pillows and lays them on the floor. They move most of the stuff off of the table, turn on the lights. put on some music, and then Liam and Zayn sits down on the pillows. Zayn slides the glasses down the table to each person and smiles. “Never have I ever.”

Harry resists the urge to sigh, as he separates himself from Louis, to allow them all some more room now that the space next to him is empty.

“Just to get it really going..” Liam begins, holding up his glass, “Never have I ever brushed my teeth.” They all throw back the shots.

They continue with those kind of statements - _Never have I ever had a shower_ and _Never have I ever eaten food_ \- for at least two rounds, making sure everyone are good and well beyond tipsy before they begin with the real questions. Harry has always been good at holding his liquor, but mixing beer or wine with vodka is never the best idea. It makes him feel giddy and maybe also a little dizzy, but in a good way.

“Never have I ever made out with a girl!” He says, and they all have a shot, himself included.

“Never have I ever had sex with a girl!” Louis says, everyone but Harry taking another one.

“Ey, proper gay you are!” Niall cheers, which make them all laugh. “Never have I ever eaten a girl out.” He adds, the glass at his lips before he’s even finished the sentence, Louis and Liam follows suit.  
Zayn and Harry shares a high-five instead and Zayn briefly explains that Louis and Liam have had girlfriends in the past but, even though he himself is _kinda bi_ , there's no way he's putting his tongue on _that._

 _  
_ Within half an hour Harry learned a lot of new things.

Like, how they’ve all had had sex in a public place, Zayn and Niall have had threesomes (though not together, as Niall pointed out extremely quickly), Niall had gotten a blow job from a guy (‘Once! Only once, and I was really drunk, okay?!’), and Liam and Zayn have done it on a balcony once, (At Liam’s parent’s place Zayn said with a smirk, as Liam’s face blossomed with a deep red color). The game change into a mess of shots and questions directed at each other eventually; answers usually followed by long stories.

  
When Harry gets a text from his mum saying she could pick him up in ten, he replies with a _‘Nah, it’s good. I wanna stay longer. Thanks though’.  
  
_

Whatever they’re doing though - be that drunken games or eating or just lying around talking -  Harry stays close to Louis the whole night. When Louis goes to the kitchen, Harry tags along. When he's sitting down, Harry sits next to him- he's always making sure to touch him every now and then, especially when it feels like it's been too long. Which is pretty often.   
He knows he's being obvious, but he's drunk and he wants Louis and he's definitely not going to miss out on an opportunity. Like. If it presents itself.

“Going to the bathroom.” Louis informs, jostling Harry where he’s resting his head on Louis’ thighs. Harry moves to sit up, but figures he doesn’t have to follow him in _there_ , and lays back down with his head flat on the carpet.

However, halfway through the living room Louis stops and looks at Harry with a raised eyebrow, followed by a head movement that clearly means for him to follow, and well, Harry scrambles to his feet. He was never one to disobey.

When he walks out into the hall, Louis is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. It makes him come across as a bit standoffish, so Harry comes to a halt an arm's length away from him, unsure of what Louis actually wants. He had hoped for _something,_ something that preferably at least involved lips and hands. Alas, they stand like that for a moment, staring at each other - Louis with his arms still over his chest, and Harry with his own stuffed down into his way too small pockets. Harry can’t hold Louis gaze for long though, can’t look at his face at all really, so he settles on staring at a small decorative table nested in the hall instead.  
  
It’s weird, really, ‘cause alcohol always makes Harry the most confident person on earth. He can go out there and approach anyone he wants, and, with a flash of his dimple and a lick of his lips, they’re his. It’s how he got Louis last time, isn’t it, so why on earth does he feel so vulnerable right now?  
Probably because they’re friends of friends now, not just strangers, and that makes this ..different, somehow.

Harry looks back up when he feels the ghost of a hand hovering over his lower arm.

Though Louis isn’t touching him he can feel the presence, the change of air or whatever, and it makes goosebumps rise. It tickles as well, but maybe that’s because he’s gracing his arm hair or something. Whatever it is, it catches his attention, and when their eyes meet Louis moves his hand to Harry’s belt loops. He hooks his index finger in the one to the left of Harry’s crotch, and pulls.  
Harry follows willingly as Louis pulls him as close as he can, caging himself against the wall.

  
Knee to knee.  
  
Hip to hip.

Chest to chest.

Breath to breath.

  
When Harry has gained his confidence and leans in for a kiss however, Louis turns his head. Their cheeks fit together, Louis’ breath ends up in his ear rather than his lips, and he can’t help but shiver. He leans into Louis, lets his whole body soak up the warmth, closes his eyes, breathes. The music is lower, just a small buzz in the background, but he can’t tell if it’s because of the alcohol, Louis’ presence, or if the volume has actually been turned down.  
  
They stay in this limbo of a hug whilst Louis’ left index remains in his belt loop, and his right hand finds a sliver of bare skin on Harry’s hip. He’s slowly stroking it with his thumb, index and middle finger. His fingertips are soft, hardly calloused. Harry moves his right hand to the small of Louis back, the only part of him that’s not pressed against the wall, but lets the other hang loosely at his side.

It’s not until a voice, Zayn’s he’s pretty sure, breaks the silence that Harry realizes that it is, in fact, silent. The music is turned down completely, there are no voices, no clinking of glass, no anything.  
“If you two are fucking against the wall, you’re going to wash it everyday for the next month ‘till it‘s squeaky clean!” He shouts. Niall’s loud laughter breaks through, although it’s quickly muffled. Harry let’s out a chuckle and buries his face in Louis' neck; he can feel Louis’ chest move up and down against his own in silent laughter.

They don’t answer though, nor do they part, and soon enough the music and voices are rushing through the flat again, allowing Louis and Harry to fall back into their private little bubble.

Louis tilts his head and Harry moves back a little, so that Louis' nose eventually grazes along Harry's cheekbone. He places a soft, dry kiss right where Harry’s cheek meets his nose, and then another one just a tiny bit lower; at the corner of his mouth. Next comes one to his jaw, and then a few down the length of his neck. Harry tilts his head to give Louis more room.

He both feels and hears Louis taking a breath through his nose. “You smell like cupcakes.” He murmurs. Maybe that’s not the most romantic thing Harry’s ever been told, but it still makes his stomach flutter.  
He has lots of comebacks, lots of cheesy answers such as _Well, feel free to take a bite_ and _Wanna lick my icing?_. They’re racing through Harry’s mind, but it doesn’t feel quite right.

Too cheesy, too cheeky.

Because, stupid as it may be, this feels like a rather intimate, sweet moment and something like _that_ would ruin it, no doubt. Instead, Harry grins at the wall, closes his eyes, but remains silent, fearing that even if he tries to say something else, something like _that_ is what will come out. As an acknowledgement that he heard him, he presses him closer with the hand still on Louis lower back, and places his other one at the swing of Louis waist, giving a gentle squeeze.

Louis pulls back then, leaving one last puff of warm breath against Harry’s neck, soon to be be contrasted by the cool air. Harry’s pouting before he even realizes it. Louis eyes are trained on his lips now though, glancing up at his eyes for a second, and then back to down. Harry can’t help himself; he licks his lips as slowly and seductively as he can muster, something which proves to be a difficult task when his heart is beating as wildly as it currently is _.  
_ It does the trick however because sure enough; Louis leans in and places a short-lived kiss against his lower lip.

It would probably have been classified as a peck, had it not been open-mouthed and with a brush of tongue.

When Louis leans back, Harry follows. He pushes Louis further against the wall, using his whole body to do so.

Their lips aren’t touching yet, but not even an inch separate them. Harry’s eyes are open, looking down at the sliver of vacant space as he and Louis just gasps into each other mouths. Somehow, it’s as if he can physically see their breaths mingling. He edges forward dragging his bottom lip over Louis’ upper one, making them stick together while they continue to just breathe. A quick peek tells him that Louis has closed his eyes, he can’t help but let his own fall shut as well.

After taking another deep breath - one that goes all the way down to his stomach and makes something swirl down there, he closes his mouth over Louis’.

It seems that when they first kiss, they _kiss._

Moist lips crash together, as Harry slides his left arm from Louis’ hip to his stomach, chest, shoulder and finally around his neck, letting his fingers tangle in the soft strands of hair.  
One of Louis’ hands sneak around Harry’s waist, pulling him impossibly closer. Harry can barely concentrate on the actual kissing: there are pins and needles standing out of every inch of his skin. Hell, they're inside his stomach and chest too, actually. Is there something akin to internal goosebumps? If there is, he has them.

He arches his back, their lips parting as a repercussion. Their groins connects however, and God if that's not the best feeling ever.. A low groan rumbles through his own throat as he lets his head fall back for all but a second, before righting himself. What he’s met with makes him groan once more. Louis’ lips and cheeks shares the same pink color and his blue eyes seem solely black. Harry barely has time to be mesmerized by it before fingers grabs at his hair and he’s almost forcefully pulled back in.

Their kiss is messier now, pure lust bubbling over and taking control. There are two tongues inside Harry’s mouth within seconds, and he definitely doesn’t mind. He gives up control easily, letting Louis’ tongue get familiar with his mouth but responds as best he can while he moves his focus to the lower parts of their bodies; he pushes one leg between Louis’, and rhythmically grinds on to him.

It’s not long before their kiss turns from lustful to sloppy, and then to just back to gasps passed back and forth.

 

The _Woah!_ that comes from somewhere close to them mere seconds later makes them jump apart. While Louis tries to push himself further into the wall, Harry jumps back into the room as they both whip their heads around to look at Niall. Niall’s cheeks are flushed red - though, thinking about it, they already were to some extent when they were all in the living room earlier, so it could be due to the alcohol.  
  
“Sorry mates! Just. Heading for the bathroom.” He squeaks, eyes wide. His voice makes it obvious that he’s uncomfortable. So. Probably not just the alcohol then. 

“Uh, yeah.” Louis mumbles, his gaze glued to the floor. Harry doesn’t add anything because, honestly, he doesn’t really know what to say. Sorry? No, making out with Louis isn’t something he feels the need to apologize for.  
  
“Don’t think Zayn joked about the washing thing, though.” Niall adds, just as the song playing fades into a quiet stop. Like magic, Zayn and Liam appears.

“We were not having sex against the wall!” Louis defends before anyone’s even has the chance to accuse him. Zayn and Liam squints suspiciously at them both and had this been last week Harry would’ve been terrified of Zayn’s glare. As it is not, he simply shrugs.

“It’s true.” He confirms, though that doesn’t seem to appease them at all. Louis exhales loudly, rolls his eyes and takes a small step forward, so that he’s not plastered to the wall anymore.

“Do you honestly think our first time, _my first time,_ would be against the wall in your flat? With the chance of any of you walking in on us?” He inquires fiercely, and that seems to make the couple relax.

“Yeah, it was just some heavy duty making out.” Niall supplies, before he slinks into the bathroom.

  
Harry steps back a little more, leaning against the wall opposite Louis. He watches as Zayn and Liam goes over to Louis, and the three shares a hushed conversation. It makes Harry incredibly curious, so he tries his best to listen in on them from where he's standing. However, with how low they are talking, and paired with the music, Harry can’t hear a word. Eventually they step back and give Louis a small push towards Harry, then leave for the living room.

Harry stares at Louis curiously, head tilted and eyebrows raised, but Louis hesitates. It seems that the roles have been revolved now; he’s the one staring at the floor, while Harry is watching him with arms crossed.  
Harry’s about to ask what’s going on, when Louis grabs his arm. He leads Harry into the guest bedroom, and shuts the door after them while urging Harry to sit down on the bed. His movement is slow and body tentative as he walks over and sits next to Harry with a sigh.

When Harry had pictured sharing a bed with Louis tonight, this wasn’t exactly the scenario he had in mind.

“Alright, okay.” Louis breathes, fumbling with his own fingers. “Like, this is really stupid. Really. You’re gonna think I’m an idiot. Well. I _am_ an idiot, but I don’t know.. I just-” He takes another deep breath, that somehow turns into a not-so-convincing chuckle. Harry wants to shut him up, make him quit rambling, or at least quit fiddling with his hands, but instead he just sits there and waits. “It’s just.. I- Okay. I’m just gonna be blunt and stupid, and just you know.. Forward. Or whatever.” Louis finally concludes, straightening his back as if as to prove his point. He looks at Harry as he opens his mouth to speak, but as the first word slip out, he's looking away again. “Like, would you sleep with me?” He asks, and it’s sounds so innocent, but the way he asks makes it seem like he already knows the answer.

Harry gapes at him, doesn’t know how to answer, because he really wasn’t expecting _that_. Louis takes his silence as an answer though, nods to himself, and mumbles a ’ _figured_.’

“Are you asking me to, like, do it now, or if I ever would?” Harry gets out once he’s found his voice again. Louis seems to consider this for a moment, almost answers, but then seems to hesitate.

“Both?” He finally says - well asks - and he simultaneously sighs and shrugs afterwards. If he’s trying to seem indifferent, he’s not exactly succeeding. “Okay, like the thing is..” He continues, turning his body towards Harry’s but keeping his head hanging down. “You do things with lots of people, right? Like, you don’t sleep with people who’s not special to you - but those other things; handjobs, blowjobs, you do those with _a lot_ of people, and I don’t wanna be another notch in your bedpost.” Harry can barely see Louis’ eyebrows furrowing with how much his head is tilted downward.

He opens and closes his mouth a few times. "I-Uh." is as long as he gets before Louis cuts him off again.  
  
“Like not because I’m in love with you or anything! But, if I wanna explore being, you know, _gay_ , then I can do that with anyone. And if that’s all you’re after, then I’d rather _not_ make it awkward with someone I actually have to hang out with every once in awhile.” He pauses and  finally looks up at Harry, a small not-quite-smile stretching across his lips. “So like, would you ever be interested in more? Or do you just wanna fuck around?” He pauses before he repeating the word ‘fuck’, adding quotation marks and rolling his eyes at the same time. His hands fall back into his own lap, shoulders lowering in a rather forlorn gesture.

Harry sighs, running his fingers through his hair. Honestly, he hadn’t really thought about all of this. He’s not always the best at thinking things through. “Well, I mean, I’m not gonna sleep with you today, that’s for sure. I only sleep with boyfriends, and you’re not my boyfriend, so..” He quickly rakes his eyes over Louis’ face, but his expression is impossible to read. “It’s not like I don’t wanna date you or anything, sometime in the future, i mean, but I don’t really know you. You don’t know me.” He adds.

Louis nods. “Yeah.” He agrees.

“Like, I believe in being friends before boyfriends, to have something to build the relationship on.” Louis nods again. He seems more at ease now, like he truly gets it, and it makes Harry relax as well. “As for it being awkward; I swear it won’t be. It’s been fine today, yeah? I’m used to doing sexual favors for my friends anyway, I’m not gonna make it awkward.” He moves his hand to give Louis’ a gentle squeeze where it’s resting on Louis’ thigh. It’s meant as a gesture of comfort, or ascertainment maybe, but to Harry‘s disappointment Louis pulls his hand away.

“I would. It will be awkward. For me at least.” He says with a sigh.

 

They sit in silence for a few minutes. Harry is mostly playing the conversation through his mind, which is probably what Louis is doing as well. He notices that Louis takes a deeper breath a few times, indicating that he’s about to say something, but he changes his mind each time, and thus the silence continues.

Because Harry’s not really sure what to say, either.

A part of him wants to say they can just fuck and get it over with, get to know each other along the way, it’s what everyone else does, isn’t it?  
But the thing is, Harry has never slept with anyone besides his two boyfriends, and he’s stupidly scared of breaking that one barrier - the one he holds onto for dear life as if it really makes that much of a difference when it comes to how other people see him, how easy they think he is.

And maybe it’s idiotic, maybe it’s pathetic even. Maybe he’s throwing away a chance at _something_ , but that’s how it went down the other times. They were friends first, then exchanged casual handjobs and blowjobs, then boyfriends, _then_ sex.

In his mind, that is the way it works, stupid as it may be, and Harry’s always been the kind of person to hold on to his traditions.

Also, his hesitation to jump into something like that has to do with the fact that he’s not very good when it comes to understanding his own feelings. Which is why needs to know Louis first. At least to an extent. It always takes Harry some time to fall for someone. Sure, he’s attracted to a lot of people, but that’s easy, that’s just based on looks. And maybe a bit of charisma.  
But to crush on someone, to _like_ like someone is based on a whole lot more. And it’s that process - the one between attraction and _like_ \- that is the problem. He’s been burned both ways before; either thinking he likes someone just to discover he doesn’t, or thinking something is casual and only physical to him, and then find out it’s apparently not. He knows by experience that both of those are shitty ways to lose friends.

So even though he does feel that pull towards Louis, that curiosity and attraction and excitement and all those other things that would make any other person _just go for it_ , he doesn’t trust it. He’s trusted it before, and it ended up hurting both him and the other guy. It’s simply not worth it.

“Let’s just be friends then.” Harry settles, finality in his voice. “We’ll spend time together, get to know each other, but just as friends, yeah?” He watches as Louis nods. “Is that alright with you?” Harry presses. He needs to be certain that they’re on the same page and a half-hearted nod will not do.  
  
Louis starts nodding again, but catches himself quickly and instead clears his throat. “Yeah, um, that’s fine.” He answers, voice weak and unconfident. Harry has been sitting with his feet planted on the floor, but now he pulls them up and under himself, as he faces Louis completely.

“It’s not that I don’t like you, Louis. But these things, these _crush_ things.. They take time for me. I just.. I need time. I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t want to jeopardize my friendships with the other guys. I mean, let’s be real, should things not work out between us I’m the one out of the equation.”

“No, yeah, I understand.” Louis answers after a moment, and this time, Harry can tell that he means it.

“Okay. So friends then?” Harry asks, unable to keep the hopefulness out of his voice.

“Friends.” Louis agrees. Harry releases a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. Harry feels a little awkward about it all to be honest. It doesn’t come naturally to him to discuss feelings, and certainly not with people who’re practically strangers. He finds his own head confusing enough without blending in the thoughts and opinions of  others.

  
After another stretch of silence, they walk back into the living room to find Niall and Zayn battling in Guitar Hero, while Liam is watching with a somewhat fond smile. They are both messing up badly, probably because of the amount of alcohol in their bodies - the empty beer and vodka bottles are the testimony of that. Though, Harry’s pretty sure he had at least half of the bottle during _never have I ever_ earlier.

When Zayn loses he broodily hands the guitar over to Liam before walking over to the kitchen. Louis calls shotgun on taking on the next winner, so Harry heads for the kitchen as well.

“You talked to Lou?” Zayn asks whilst pulling a pitcher out of a cupboard. It’s more of a statement, the unspoken question being _what did you talk about, how did it go?_

“Yeah, we’re good.” He assures, and then adds “Just friends.” Zayn raises one eyebrow, and Harry answers with a smile and a shrug, and that’s the end of that.  
He watches as Zayn stirs water with a powdered mix and a transparent liquid from an unlabeled plastic bottle, then takes the glasses Zayn hands him into the living room. They hardly touch the drink mix though, likely because it’s already past 3 AM.

Harry goes to the bathroom, and when he gets back Niall has fallen asleep on the couch with one arm over his eyes and the other down a bag of crisps on the floor. Granted, he may have already been out when Harry left the room, it’s not like he paid attention - but, see, Liam had graciously decided that everyone was sleeping over- which is great as Harry’s in no condition to wander the streets alone, but it had been agreed upon that he would sleep on the couch. It’s large and really comfy and well, he’s slept in worse places before it wasn’t exactly a hardship to agree.

Niall falling asleep on it was not a part of that plan. He’s stretched from the armrest and all the way down so that his feet are covering half of the loveseat as well. When Liam and Zayn announce they're heading for bed shortly after, Harry tiredly crawls up and curls at the end of the sofa and makes himself as small and comfortable as he can. His shoulder and upper arm is touching Niall’s feet and he will most likely be kicked in his face or head during the night, but Harry’s tired, the alcohol is weighing him down, and he knows it won’t take long for him to fall asleep anyway.

As soon as he’s twisted and turned into a bizarre and yet still marvelously pleasant position, Louis is standing next to him, poking at his shoulder.

“What?” Harry whines.

“Guest bedroom is better.” He replies simply.

 “I’m good. Comfortable.” Harry yawns, curling even further in on himself. He wonders if he resemblances a kitten, because he kinda feels like he does, with his back bent and his arms around his knees. “Do I look like a cat?” He wonders out loud. Louis snorts in response, as if it’s a very silly question.

“Come on. Niall’s a kicker _and_ a snorer. You’re gonna sleep much better in the guest room.”

“Fine.” Harry grumbles, stretching out and opening his eyes to find the room brighter than he remembered. He stands up, muttering a _night Niall_ , and then stumbles as Louis leads the way to the guest room. He turns in the hallway though, with a very gracious pirouette thank you very much, and makes for the bathroom instead. The light is absolutely horrible so he slaps the walls a few times before hitting the switch and transitioning the room into delightful dark. He leaves the door open as he drinks a few mouthfuls of water, and then takes a wee before going back to the room.

When he gets in there, Louis has dressed down to his boxers, and is getting into bed. Harry closes the door, turns off the light and clumsily undresses himself before crawling in beside Louis. He mumbles good night through a yawn and settles down, letting his body sink deep into the soft, cool covers.

He’s on the edge of drifting off when Louis speaks. “Are you sleeping?” He whispers. Harry is _this close_ to ignoring him, but his curiosity gets the best of him.

“Why?” He forces himself to open his eyes even though it feels like they are taped shut. 

“Not tired.” Harry yawns in response, takes a deep breath and then turns his head to face Louis.  
  
“Why not?” He asks, to which Louis makes a motion, the bedsheets audibly moving with it. Harry guesses it’s a shrug.

“..You can sleep.” Louis finally says. Harry debates whether or not to do just that. He finally settles on keeping Louis company.

“Not that tired.” He lies, holding back a yawn and blinking a couple of times to try and get some of the sleepy fog away. It doesn’t help, but the small lamp over the bed being turned on certainly does. It takes Harry a while to adjust enough to the light to see that Louis has sat up. He keeps his sigh inwards as he maneuvers his own heavy body into the same position, mirroring Louis’ with legs crossed and the blanket wrapped around his body.

They sit there in silence for a while. Harry is trying to stop himself from collapsing back down and finally let sleep take him over. He has no idea what Louis is doing, but when he squints at him he doesn’t seem nearly as tired as Harry feels.

“Let’s play 20 questions.” Louis finally decides. Harry nods. “I’ll start, what’s your favorite color?”

“Blue. Yours?” Harry asks lamely. His brain isn’t working, he can barely think enough to answer the simple question.

“Purple.” Louis answers. There’s a very good chance that Harry will have forgotten that in the morning. He gives in and lets his eyes close again.

“Favorite Animal?”

“Cats. You?”  
  
“Dogs.” Louis pauses, probably waiting for Harry to ask something this time. Eventually, he realizes that’s not gonna happen. “Favorite position?” he questions then, probably trying to make Harry pay attention. It works, as Harry’s eyes pops open. “Sex position.” Louis clarifies, should there be any doubt.

“I don’t know.. Riding’s pretty good?” Louis nods thoughtfully.

“Bottom or top?”

“Both?” Louis makes a low hum, but otherwise remains silent, obviously mulling things over. It allows for the sleepiness to settle over Harry once again, so he eventually lets his eyes slip back shut, his head automatically lulling towards his right shoulder,

“Do you wanna sleep?” Louis finally asks, and Harry makes a sound of affirmation. Then adds in a nod for good measure. “Okay.” Louis allows.

Harry falls back into the mattress immediately.

He’s pretty sure he’s a asleep or in a coma or _something._ He’s barely conscious at all; can’t make out any sounds, doesn’t register whether Louis turns off the night lamp or not. It’s just black and quiet and warm, the only thing he seems to be aware of is his own breaths, long and deep, calming him inside out. He doesn’t think he could open his eyes, wouldn’t be able to shake himself out of this even if he wanted to.

Still, he’s pretty sure it’s not a figment of his imagination when soft lips press against his for one, two, three seconds before the darkness fully consumes him.

 

Harry stretches his legs and cracks his back while still clutching the warm body in his arms closer. Soft barely-there snores are mixing in with his own sounds, and he smiles to himself, pushing his face closer and inhaling through his nose. Louis smells like.. well, he wish he could say something like _summer_ and _sun_ and _apples_ , but it’s unfortunately a fragrance of, like, beer and vodka. And _man_ \- though definitely not in the good way. He doesn’t care though, knows that he’s probably oozing the same odor, and instead he presses even closer to Louis and lets the sleepy aura of the room drag him back down.

 

When he awakes again, it’s to an empty bed. Harry would lie if he said it didn’t disappoint him the slightest. There are different muffled voices that are dampened by the closed door, indicating that at least some of them are up - unless, of course, Louis has a knack for talking loudly to himself and do remarkably accurate impressions - so he rolls of the bed and stumbles out, making a pit stop on the bathroom.  
His clothes are ruffled, his hair messy, and he has sleep wrinkles on his face. He tries to make himself a bit more presentable by splashing some lukewarm water in his face, pulling on his hair and clothes a bit and mixing a glob of toothpaste with a mouthful of water in hopes of hiding his foul morning breath.

When he walks out into the living room, the other boys are all awake and thankfully looking just about as sleepy and ruffled as he does. They weakly throw greetings his way, Zayn’s consisting of the word _food_ , mumbled around a piece of bread and lazy gesture towards the kitchen.

  
After breakfast and some reruns of a bad supposed-to-be-comedy show, Niall and Louis decides to leave, and Harry figures that’s his cue as well. They hug Zayn and Liam goodbye, and on the way out of the flat complex Louis asks the both of them if they need a ride home, which they obviously accept.

Niall lives close by, so he’s dropped off first. As Louis pulls out from his spot by the curb, Harry says he lives close to Fallowey Park, so he can drop him off there.  
  
“Right. Um.” Louis checks his rear view mirror and maneuvers into another vacant spot just a few cars over. He leans over Harry’s lap to the glove compartment where he fishes out an old gps, before leaning back as he turns it on. “Just, plot in the address for me, will you?”

“Where do you live? Like is this on your way home?” Harry asks as he halfway stabs the screen to be able to type the letters. He tries to sound casual but he knows he doesn’t accomplish it from the way Louis intently concentrates to make his way out on the road again, the silence lasting a tad too long.  
  
It’s weird, because it really _is_ a just a casual question. However, this is the second time they’ve actually addressed each other all day, so that could be why it’s.. awkward.

“I live further south.” He reveals eventually, then reluctantly adding, “Not too far from the water park.” Harry looks up at him, practically gaping.

“You can just drop me off at the train station!” He says hastily as he points to the left where the turnoff is already visible further up their road. Louis drives right past it.

“It’s no problem.” He answers, with a shrug.  
  
“It’s quite a detour.” That’s an understatement. It’s a fifteen minute drive. In the opposite direction. Well, the gps says nine once he's confirmed the address, but it’s obviously not updated, as it picks a route that goes through the construction site that has been in the works for the last year and a half. At least.

Harry tells him as much.“I don’t mind.” Louis insists. “I like driving. And, uh, it’s good to get a bit more.. local knowledge?” It’s a ridiculous argument, and they both know it if the way Louis voice squeaks the tiniest bit at the last word is anything to go by. It’s not even a statement, more a of a question if anything, but Harry lets it slide, only humming in response. It’s not like he actually _wants_ to take the train home.  
  
A slightly strained silence follows, the only distraction being the stereo, though the volume is so low Harry can barely make out the songs if concentrates. He considers turning it up, though he’s not sure if that will come across as rude or not. He's still contemplating when Louis speaks up again, words hesitant.  
  
“Um, like, how much do you remember from last night?”

“Well, the last thing I remember is that we talked a lot, and then went to sleep.” Harry answers, nonchalantly. He adds a shrug for good measure, and Louis nods, seeming satisfied with the answer.  
  
Their conversation flows a lot easier after that, and Harry decides never to bring up the kiss - that he’s still pretty sure actually happened - as he navigates Louis through the streets that are non-existent on his ancient gps. “Maybe you should use google maps or something next time.” He suggest with a smile, as they come to a stop outside of Harry’s house, or smack dab in the middle of a river, if the grainy picture is anything to go by.  
  
Louis is quite cute when he pouts.

 

 

  
\--

 

 

  
The following week is a blur, really.

All of Harry’s teachers seems to have synchronized their schedules, meaning he has three big projects - two of which are group projects - and a math test. In _one_ week. It is closing in on the end of the school year though, so exhausting as it is, it does make sense.

But when that is added to his usual amount of homework, as well as his job, he basically doesn’t have time to do anything else. Pretty much all the spare time he _does_ have, or pretends that he has anyway, is spent chatting with Louis, whether that’s online or through texts. They talk a lot, about everything, and it’s actually really great. It already feels like they’re good friends.  
  
That does make him feel a bit guilty whenever he wanks to the thought of Louis, though. But it’s not like he can help himself, his whole body is craving Louis, is lusting for him. His mind keeps replaying the kisses they shared, the taste and shape and texture of Louis’ lips is still lingering on his own. And everything else for that matter; He can feel the ghost of Louis’ touch all over him. He feels his breath against his neck and his hands gripping his hips, the hard planes of his chest pressing up against his own.. It’s honestly driving him crazy.

It’s also downright annoying, because he really is trying to _not_ feel that way, as he meant the things he said when they talked. Besides, now that they actually are friends, he knows that he certainly doesn’t want to lose that by taking a risk on something that might fizzle once the sexual attraction cools off.

Now, if only his cock would stop twitching every time Louis texts him.

 

 

They decide to hang out Friday evening, as they both _finally_ are available. Somehow they decide to go to Indigo. Harry’s not really sure how that happened, nor does he think either one of them are particularly enthusiastic about it. Harry’s not, at least.

His mum is working the evening shift though, so he invites Louis over for dinner and a few beers first. It’s not a date and it’s not romantic; It’s just two mates pregaming a bit as to avoid going broke by the end of the night. The menu at Indigo is actually quite expensive - like, if you compare it to the standards of other rundown and insidious clubs.

When Louis arrives around 8, the sky is a dark blue-grey color, and the weather is suspiciously warm. It’s a trend at the moment, it has been toasty and sunny almost everyday since Monday. But not this humid though.

Harry goes back into the kitchen as soon as he’s let Louis in. He’s almost done cooking, only need a couple of moments to do the last-minute touches, so he tells him to just hang out while he finishes. He didn’t really expect for Louis to be literally tripping around his feet, sniffing the air and trying to nip a little taste of whatever is within reach. Although, come to think about it, maybe he should’ve.  
Harry would be annoyed, normally. He doesn’t like it when people touch his food, nor does he like to feel crowded in the kitchen, but it’s _Louis_. Harry can’t help finding it cute when he’s faced with Louis’ animated expressions and not-very-sneaky-sneaking, or how he giddily scurries out of the way whenever Harry warningly utters his name.

He knows he’s not supposed to be charmed, and mentally scolds himself as he slaps his spatula to the right when a finger dips into the pasta sauce. He turns around in mock annoyance only to find Louis with big, innocent eyes as he sucks his finger clean. Harry’s not sure whether he’s teasing him like _that_ intentionally or not, but it makes a shiver run down his spine anyway, simultaneously making his stomach knot in arousal.  
  
Harry rolls his eyes - both at Louis and himself - and begins plating it up.

 

By the time dinner’s on the table, it’s raining heavily. The drops are drumming down so hard they bounce back up from the ground, and the air in general looks grey due to the amount of water cascading. It’s the kind of weather that will drench you the second you walk outside, the kind of weather that only idiots step out in, really. They ignore it for now though, as they’re not going out in a few hours anyway and it might get better till then. The forecast this morning said it would be short-lived anyway.  
  
Instead they focus on just talking, eating and drinking. They talk about exams coming up, and what they’re gonna do next year. About how Harry's starting his last year in high school, and Louis' starting his second in uni. Louis teases Harry for being a child, but does nonchalantly offer to help Harry with school since _he’s been there and all that_. Likewise, Harry refers to Louis as a _man of a certain age_ , getting grumbles and frowns in return. _Don’t worry Louis, you age like a fine wine.  
_ They also talk about their childhoods and families though, which feels a lot more personal, especially with how deep they dwindle into the subject. Louis’ does most of the talking, but Harry really doesn’t mind as he’s always been more of a listener, but he does share his opinion when Louis asks, or interfere to add his own points of view or comments.

When the clock’s passed 10:30, they’ve eaten more than they probably should have - Harry's on the verge of being too full, and he's tipsy from the four beers he's had as well. Louis doesn't seem to fare any better, his cheeks are flushed in the most beautiful way.  
  
It’s still pouring down outside.  
  
They decide that if it doesn’t get any better within the next hour, they’ll just stay in and watch a movie instead. It seems to let up for a little while, but when the rain is down to a drizzle there's a flash of lightning and a loud boom crackling across the sky.  
  
“I guess it’s settled then!” Louis says, leaning back against the couch with a pleased smile. It's not long till the rain picks up again anyway.

  
Harry eventually forces Louis to join him in the kitchen as he makes some hot chocolate. As was expected _this_ time, Louis skirts around him, adding too much sugar to the mix, and then rummages through the cupboards in search of lord knows what. It’s with triumph that he holds up a small bottle of Bailey’s and a bag of large marshmallows that's more than half-empty. He single-handedly eats all but two of them, reasoning that they won't fit more than one into each cup anyway.

Despite not feeling cold at all, Harry snuggles up to Louis on the couch, a blanket covering most of them. They turn the telly on to see if they'll anything interesting, ending up seeing the last half of an episode of CSI: Miami. Louis’ commentary is far more interesting than the show itself.

Once that's done, and they've drained the pot of the cocoa mixed with Bailey's - or, it's probably the other way around, seeing that Louis was quite generous with the liquor - they’re both giggling on both exhale and inhale as they run up the stairs to Harry’s room on a mission to find a movie. Louis locates the room away, probably due to it being the first one to the right and the door is wide open, and he rushes inside

 

Once Harry steps foot over the threshold all but a second later, Louis’ looking at him with that same wide-eyed, innocent look he was donning in the kitchen earlier. He turns around, pokes at Harry’s bed and then turns back to him.

“Can I jump on your bed?” He asks, hiding his lips to try and suppress a smile. It doesn’t do much, as his eyes crinkle up and his face kinda glows _.  
  
_ “Lou, you’re not supposed to jump on beds.” He answers. Louis bites the side of his bottom lip.

“But it looks bouncy.”

“It _is_ bouncy.” Harry confirms. His chest clenches at the mischievous look that spreads across Louis’ face, and he’s not at all surprised when, in a matter of seconds, the boy has made his way up on the bed, and starts jumping with the widest grin Harry has ever seen.

They both laugh as Harry makes a weak attempt to try and catch him, Louis easily leaping out of reach. Harry finds himself crawling onto the bed as well, intending to stop him by tickling him into submission or throwing him off, or, like, something.

Turns out; he joins him instead.

They laugh and jump, and it’s childish and stupid and probably lame as hell. The bed is groaning and squeaking under their weight, and the picture frames on the walls and the pens on his desk - the entire room itself it seems - rattles each time one of them lands.  
He’s not even that drunk. Like, he’s definitely had more alcohol than this at other times without feeling half as drunk as he does right now. But. Maybe alcohol is not the only thing he’s drunk on tonight.  
  
He’s pretty sure they look like idiots, but right there, in that particular moment, it feels like the most fun he’s ever had. Besides, no one’s watching, so Harry really can’t be bothered.

  
He should’ve known though. He should’ve known it would end up like this. It’s the biggest cliche, isn’t it?

One miscalculated jump ends with the two of them bouncing together. _That_ bounce leads them out of balance, and said lack of balance makes them fall, Louis clutching onto Harry’s sweater as they go down.  
  
Which finally leads them to this; Harry on top of Louis, eyes locked and all laughter drowned out. It’s the kind of situation that would’ve usually made Harry cringe with awkwardness, the kind that makes him roll his eyes all the way back to his head whenever it happens in movies or series - but. It’s _Louis_ , and that seems to be the excuse for all of his weird feelings these days, doesn’t it?

  
He shouldn’t kiss him.

  
Harry knows that he wants to. Wants to kiss him again, feel those lips back on his. Wants more, so much more than that, too.

  
He shouldn’t kiss him.

  
He _knows_ he shouldn’t, his mind is screaming it at him. Blinking red lights and stop signs and the likes. But the screams are muffled by Louis’ eyes, and lips, and _oh, tongue_. He can’t help it, let’s his eyes follow the wet, pink muscle as it drags over Louis’ lips, leaving them shiny and moist.

  
He shouldn’t kiss him.  
  
  
He uses all his strength to not move at all. It’s just.. his body feels way too comfortable on top of Louis’, and, well, Louis doesn’t seem to be complaining either? Their legs are tangled, their groins and stomachs pressed close together. Harry’s resting on his elbows, keeping their chests a few inches apart, their heads a little further.

 

He shouldn’t kiss him.

 

Though it’s getting harder to remember _why._ Why on earth he’s holding himself back from the one thing he wants the most. Why he’s holding back, when Louis wants it too.  
His thoughts are slowly fading into the background, all of them replaced with nothing but his senses; smell, touch, sound. Most of all he’s painfully aware of Louis’ hot, shallow breaths, as they crash against his parted lips, curling into his mouth.

  
  
He shouldn’t kiss him.

  
  
But Louis seems to have reached the conclusion that he _should_ , as he curls his hand around Harry’s neck and brings their lips together.  
  
Harry gives in, and kisses him. He lets his body slump a little, pressing them more intently together, though he still holds some weight on his arms. The kiss is eager, _Harry_ is eager, trying his best to soak up everything that is Louis, everything that Louis gives. He parts his lips when Louis bites at his bottom one, lets him roam and explore his mouth before he fights back with his own tongue Louis complies quickly, mouth going slack and deliciously soft. It still tastes of beer, and it hits him just then that that’s all he’s ever tasted on Louis’ tongue; beer and vodka.  
He’s determined to do something about that though, so he swipes his tongue everywhere to get rid of the lingering alcohol, wanting to taste _Louis -_ who doesn’t seem to mind; muffled moans escapes his lips every now and then, hands tight around Harry’s neck to keep him close.

Harry’s not sure how long they actually kiss for, but he’s starting to run out of breath. They should stop. The small gasps fitted in between the drag of lips aren’t fulfilling his need for oxygen in the long run, and his mouth is getting a bit sore and swollen. Logic tells him Louis’ must be the same.

 _That_ , and then there’s the fact that they’re grinding. Louis’ hips are lifting up a little to meet Harry’s and- yeah, they probably shouldn’t go any further with this.  
  
It’s not easy, but Harry pulls away, leaving with a couple of soothing licks to Louis’ lips. He takes a few gulps of air as he admires how red and puffy Louis' mouth looks,. He’s pretty sure Louis is thinking the same about his. Well, at least if the way Louis’ eyes are glued to them is anything to go by.

Harry can’t help but take a second to roam over Louis’ face; admiring the pink in his cheeks, his ruffled hair, and the way his pupils are enlarged significantly. He presses one final kiss to Louis’ lips, and then shifts to get up.

He's barely lifted himself a few inches before he’s rolled over in a whirlwind, and Louis is on top of him, using his body to weigh him down. Harry’s baffled, but he tries to push himself up again. Louis shakes his head then, just a quick flick of it, as his eyes zeros in on Harry’s lips. “No.” He says, determined, and then they’re kissing again.

Harry tries to break it every now and then - pulling back a bit or turning his head slightly - but his attempts aren’t even half-hearted and not nearly enough to deter Louis. When they’ve both gotten too breathless again, so much so that Harry’s lungs genuinely aches a bit, he almost wrenches away and let his head fall proper down on the mattress, facing as far away from Louis as possible. Louis rests his forehead against Harry’s shoulder, their pants echoing loud and synchronized. It’s the combination of a lack of oxygen and the arousal that’s twisting in his stomach, and the alcohol as well, that makes Harry feel so heady. Also, it appears he's a bit out of shape. Louis is definitely fitter than him because it only seems to take him a moment to catch his breath proper, before he attacks his neck. Harry’s breath stutters each time the wet heat claims another part of his skin, teeth sinking in just enough to make the mark last a few hours. He’s pretty sure Louis will have his own marks as well, with how hard Harry’s gripping at his hips.  
  
“Lou..” He tries.

“No.” The answer is mumbled against Harry’s skin, and the vibration added to the light  scratch of stubble makes Harry let out a shaky, albeit small, moan. Louis takes that as an encouragement. His movements gets quicker and sloppier as he peppers Harry’s neck with kisses, licks and bites all while grinding his hips firmly against Harry’s, and it’s not long till he feels the hard length of Louis dick pressing up against him.

Everyone has a breaking point. Harry just met his. “Fuck it.” He mutters, rolling them over so he’s back on top. Louis lets out a surprised yelp at the turn of the events, but it turns into a moan when Harry fervently licks back into his mouth and ruts their pelvises together. Louis back arches up from the mattress. Harry seizes the opportunity to remove some clothes, he has his hand underneath the shirt, and pushes it up around Louis’ armpits in seconds. Then, Harry sits up so that he’s only straddling him, constantly rolling his hips. He makes sure he has all of Louis attention, going as far as locking eyes, before he removes his own t-shirt. Louis’ gaze roams over Harry’s torso, before he lifts his his upper body enough to take his all the way off as well.

When they press their bodies back together, it’s much, much better, and Harry says so. Louis hums in agreement when Harry bites at his collarbone. It turns into a gasp seconds later, when he latches onto a nipple. He can’t help but smirk around the growing nub, moving his fingers to twist the other one. The sound he draws out right then is one Harry’s determined to remember.

Maybe it’s because Harry’s wanted this for _so_ long and that Louis is incredibly attractive and that the air is warm and humid, the alcohol obviously only adds to it as well - but the fact remains that he’s pretty sure he’s never been this horny in his life. Their kiss has gone nothing short of messy, all technique thrown out the window - though that actually seems to be a thing every time the two of them kiss.

Harry makes a promise to himself that he has to kiss Louis once, at least _once_ , when he’s not filled with desperation or alcohol, just so that he can prove to Louis he actually knows how to kiss. It’s not like Louis is exceeding skilled finesse either, but Harry couldn’t care less at the moment, seeing as he can feel Louis’ hard cock rubbing up against his own. Louis is panting so heavily that he soon becomes incapable of kissing at all. Instead he ducks his head and grips at Harry’s hair so tight it’s almost painful and bores his face into his neck, teeth sinking into it. Harry groans at that, movements becoming more clumsy and erratic.

It’s been awhile since he’s been literally rolling around in bed with someone, grinding like this, and he’d kinda forgotten how good it feels. How intimate.

He wriggles his way out of Louis’ hold and leaves a wet trail down Louis’ chest; a kiss here, a bite there, toying with his nipples and scratching lightly at his sides. Louis arches off the bed every time Harry’s mouth touches him, sexy, throaty noises accompanying it every now and then.

Harry dips his tongue into Louis’ navel, and then kisses down the happy trail, humming as he goes, and ending with running his tongue under the edge of Louis’ trouser, earning another moan. Harry smirks, sitting up so that he straddles Louis’ hips firmly, and rocks forward in a hard, slow movement. He can feel Louis through the layers of clothing, and nice as _that_ is, Harry hardly pays attention to it, as it’s somehow not as enchanting as Louis’ face: his eyelashes are fluttering over his half closed eyes, casting shadows over the rosy color that has settled high on his cheekbones. His lips are practically red-rimmed and slack and there’s a thin layer of sweat on his forehead.

He kinda looks like a mess.

It’s really sexy.

Harry leans down, pressing their chests back together. He nuzzles into Louis’ neck, presses a small kiss to the clammy skin before fitting his mouth to Louis’ ear. “I wanna suck you, please let me.” He whispers. He’s barely finished the sentence when Louis moans, arches his back high, goes rigid, and then slumps back onto the bed. Harry freezes, waiting to see if Louis starts moving again, but he remains lax through his heavy breathing and heaving chest. Harry gingerly sits back up. Louis is flushed red from his ears to his chest, and he has an _extremely_ sheepish look on his face.

“Did you just come?” Harry asks dumbfounded. He has to bite back a disbelieving laugh when Louis mumbles _'I’m sorry!_ ', hands covering the entirety of his face. “Well that’s-” Harry splutters, then cuts himself off by slapping his hand over his mouth when the laugh escapes anyway.

“I swear I don’t always come this quickly!” Louis defends. He’s fingers has moved to leave a gap of his eyes visible, and based on the way they crinkle, Harry’s pretty sure he’s smiling. “It’s just, I’m drunk and you’re a hot guy, and it messes up my body!” His eyes drop down to Harry’s erection, still pressing against the zipper of his jeans. “I can still, like, you know..” He adds with a vague gesture towards Harry’s crotch. The ‘yes’ is at the very tip of his tongue when the front door slams closed. Harry hangs his head in defeat when his mum calls out his name a moment later, surely having seen his things in the hall and his phone that he’s pretty sure he left on the living room table.

“How bout I’ll take a shower, and you borrow some of my pants and we just go to bed?” He suggests with a sigh.

“I’m sorry.” Louis offers again.

After they’ve both cleaned up they crawl into Harry’s bed again. With the heat of the moment gone and the alcohol subdued a bit, the atmosphere has certainly changed. Alas; it is awkward.

“I didn’t tell mum you’re here.” Harry shares, having gone down to say hello and fetch his phone - and Louis’ too, thankfully his mum didn’t see him fishing that one from the couch. “Just said I’d had someone over earlier.. But she’ll work early in the morning anyway, so she won’t know.”

“Is me being here against the rules or something?”

“..Kinda?” Louis laughs. Harry slaps his arm.  
  
“Bet you got berated for the alcohol too.” He teases, only laughing harder when he realizes it's true.

“Fuck you, don’t laugh!" Harry says through a grin that he doesn't even try to suppress. "At least I don’t come like a preteen before I've even got my cock out!” Louis squeaks, but laughs along with Harry anyway, both of them having to use their pillow to muffle it.  
  
The tension breaks after that, and they talk quietly for a while. “I’ll show you sometime that I can last for more than 5 minutes.” Louis mumbles into the dark, minutes after they their conversation drifted off. Harry moves his hand from where it’s tucked underneath his face and over to the back of Louis’ thigh, giving it a squeeze. Louis hitches a breath as he buries his nose into the mattress.  
  
“I’ll hold you to it.”

 

  
\--

 

Waking up alone leaves Harry pretty confused. He takes a few minutes to blink his eyes open, before rolling over to look on the floor. Upon seeing Louis’ clothes on the floor, Harry presumes the boy is either in the shower or downstairs eating or watching tv or whatever it is Louis finds more important than sleep. Harry blindly grabs a t-shirt from his closet and puts it on while crossing the hall to the presumably empty bathroom, as the door is wide open.  
He goes to splash some water in his face, waiting probably five minutes for the water to heat up,  and takes a leak before heading towards the stairs.

When he hears mumbling he figures Louis is in fact watching the telly, but he stops on his trek downstairs when he hears his mother’s voice, followed by Louis’ only seconds later. It’s with furrowed eyebrows and his bottom lip nestled between his teeth that he slowly pokes his head around the corner of the kitchen. He’s unsure of what he’s gonna find, not being able to make out the words through the heartbeats ringing through his skull.  
They’re not fighting. Not at all, actually. Instead, they are sitting at the kitchen table, contently and peacefully drinking tea while chattering. There are two plates with crumbles and two glasses with residue of what can only be orange juice slid up towards the end of the table, and they’re clearly engrossed in their conversation as neither one has noticed his presence.

Louis has helped himself to Harry’s clothes; donning a pair of PJ’s he hasn’t used in months and one of Harry’s favorite t-shirts. One that his mum certainly recognizes, as she’s the one who bought it. “Um, morning?” Harry’s voice is laced with confusion, and the sleepy edge to it doesn’t exactly hide that.

“Morning Harry!” They both answer in unison - though Louis is grinning and his mum is scrunching her nose in distaste. Right, here comes the scolding then.

“Damn you!” She _laughs_ , leaning over to her purse and rummaging around in it before pulling out a fiver, sighing as she puts it in Louis’ awaiting hand.

_What?_

The two of them laugh, probably mostly at Harry’s baffled expression - he’s the tiniest bit offended. Louis turns completely to him while stuffing the money into his - well Harry’s, really - pocket.

“We bet on how long you’d sleep. I said you’d be up before twelve, and Anne said after. So I won!” He explains, beaming.

His mum gets up to fill a third cup with tea, the room silent while she preps it to Harry’s like. “Three sugars, huh?” Louis notes tutting. His mum smiles warmly as she turns around, while Harry’s still too much in a daze to respond.

“He’s always liked sweet things.” Anne says, handing Harry the cup, who’s not really aware that he’s grabbing it till the warm porcelain burns his skin. “Apparently it transfers to boys as well..” She adds in a silent voice, giving Harry a specific look, but they both know Louis heard; said boy is currently blushing.

“Wait, so how long have you two been up?” Harry asks as the fog starts to clear from his mind. Setting his cup on the counter to rub his overheated palms on his- ..bare thighs. Right.

“I was up a little past eight, and Anne joined me 8.30 or so.” Louis says, sharing another smile with his mum.

“So you’ve been sitting here chatting for three hours?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

 “Oh.. Um, but mum, aren’t you working today?” He asks. His mum actually smirks back at him.

“Nope. Can’t sneak any boys past me.” She says, raises an eyebrow in what appears to be a challenging gesture actually. There’s warmth spreading over Harry’s face, over his entire body really, and he’s sure his skin is tinged pink. He picks the tea back up and takes a sip that burns his tongue. It’s a mere attempt to blame his blush on the warmth and damp from the tea, and that’s apparently as obvious as it is hilarious, judging by the laughter that fills the room.

“Um, sorry?” He tries.

 “You know you’re usually grounded for these kinda things.” His mum responds, Harry’s cheeks no doubt darkening further as he nods, eyes downcast and front teeth digging into his bottom lip. It’s actually a bit more sensitive than usual, and that realization makes him glance up at Louis, albeit only for a short moment. “Louis and I have been talking though, and we’ve found a different, more appropriate punishment.”

“The two of you… together?”

“Yup.” There are goosebumps rising along Harry’s skin, for reasons unknown, really. He transfers the cup from his left hand to his right and then covers his bare stomach as best he can with both arms. He tries to seem indifferent as he raises his eyebrows in anticipation.

“Cookies.” His mum says.

“ _Cookies?”_

“Yes. We’ve been talking about craving cookies for the last hour, so you’re gonna make us some.”

“ _Seriously?”_

“What, would you rather be grounded?” She asks, clearly amused. No. He definitely would not.

“Cookies it is!”

Harry spins around to head for the oven just as there’s a screech of a chair being pushed over the floor. Harry turns to see his mum standing up, the strap of her purse already hooked over her shoulder. “Well, we’re out of chocolate chips, so I’ll just take a quick trip down to the store and get some.” She says, shoving her phone into a side pocket. “Anything else we need?” Harry opens the fridge and pulls out milk, butter and eggs.

“Milk.” He says, shaking the container to highlight that it’s practically empty. “Oh, and maybe some apple juice?”

“Aright, be back in a bit.”

Harry goes to pull the rest of the ingredients out of the various cupboards and can’t hold back a small smile when he sees two bags of chocolate chips in the closet. He sends her a quick _‘thanks xx’_ , before grabbing the digital scale to weigh up the butter.

“Okay, so really, what did you two talk about this morning?” He asks curiously, making Louis grin.

“We talked about lot’s of things.” Louis says easily. Harry puts the butter in the microwave for seven seconds and then scoops it into a baking bowl.

“Like?”

“Like work, family, life.. _you._ ” He trails off. Harry turns to find a innocent smile on his face. It sweet and soft, accompanied by long, blinking lashes. It’s put on, no doubt, but Harry still has to look away to contain himself.

“What about me?”

“Oh, you know, who’s taking who’s last name, our wedding song, how many kids we’re having..” Louis trails off mischievously, but his face falls quickly when he notices that Harry’s not laughing or smiling with him. “I’m. Joking..?” He adds. Harry’s lips break into a small half-smile, but he knows it looks somewhat strained.

“Yeah, I know.” He says, trying to shrug the feeling of unease off. Louis doesn’t answer, just stares at him, weary and puzzled. Harry uses a kitchen machine to mix the butter with sugar, the thing seemingly noisier than it’s ever been before. When he turns it back off to get the eggs, he lets out a sigh, forcing his body to relax. He’s being silly, is all. “I just.. kinda had this stalker? A few months back. And you just caught me off guard a little. I know you’re not like that, though. Sorry.”

“Oh. That’s okay.” Louis says, the tension in the room noticeably easing. “I don’t think Zayn would’ve let me anywhere near Liam if I had those kinds of tendencies.” He adds. Harry bark out a laugh.

“No, definitely not. Angry Zayn is scary.”

“He is! Glad I’ve never been on the receiving end!” Louis says, and then glares at Harry when he sees the smirk on his face. “No.” He deadpans. Harry pouts for half a second, before his lips twitch into a grin that makes Louis roll his eyes.

He uses the pause in their conversation to turn the mixer back on to add the eggs in and some vanilla essence to the batter. Louis is watching him - Harry can feel his gaze as he himself focuses on the task at hand and it’s making something unidentifiable stir in his stomach. He needs to combine the dry ingredients before he can add them to the batter, so he makes sure to fill the silence once the machine is no longer overpowering everything else.  “Sorry ‘bout my mum though. I honestly didn’t think she’d be home this morning. I hope it wasn’t too awkward?”

“No, no worries. I quite enjoyed talking with her actually. Once the initial discomfort had passed, she reminded me of my own mum.” He smiles softly. Harry ignores another twist somewhere deep in his belly.

When his mum comes back from the store the dough is done, save for adding the chocolate chips, the baking pan lined and the oven preheated. “Are you staying for dinner?” She asks Louis as she places the bag on the counter, Harry immediately roaming through them to find the most important ingredient in the cookies.

“I can’t, I have work.” he replies. Harry pouts as he grasps the bag, looking up to find it mirrored on both Louis’ and his mum's faces.

“At the kitchen store, right?” She asks, waiting for a confirming nod before she continues. “When do you start?”

“Um, three.”

“Alright.” She replies, glancing at the watch up on the wall. “When do you have to leave here? I can make you some more of those sandwiches for lunch, if you want?” Her back is turned to Harry, but he’s fairly sure she’s smiling that kind, motherly smile of hers; the one that would make anyone cave. Louis glances past her shoulder locking eyes with Harry, and only when Harry shrugs with a smile across his lips does he accept the offer.

  
Once the cookies are done and cooled of a tad, they sit down on the couch. His mum claims the chaise, and Harry takes the opposite end, leaving Louis to sit somewhere in the middle. He chooses the seat right next to Harry, curls his legs up into a criss-cross position and picks a cookie from the cooling rack, seemingly unaware of the two pairs of eyes watching him. Harry shivers when Louis actually _moans_ around his first mouthful, and he’s really glad _he’s not_ the one in the middle right now.

He gives Louis a suspicious glare, and Louis smirks in return, before telling him that _‘they’re amazing, love!’  
   
_ “Told you!” Harry’s mum grins, as she pulls up netflix and searches for-  
  
“Sherlock Holmes?”

“Louis haven’t seen it before.” She explains, grabbing a cookie for herself and settling comfortably in her seat once she's pressed play. It’s not like her to barge in on Harry’s social life - usually when he has guests over she’ll retreat to another room, or even venture outside, giving Harry some privacy. Well not today, it seems.

“About time then.” Harry says belatedly. Louis just smiles that sweet smile of his.

They watch right around half of it, before Harry’s mum pauses the movie. “I should start making those sandwiches I promised.”  She gives Louis a once-over, face unreadable but definitely not unkind. “And you should probably get dressed, Louis, if you don’t wanna be late for work.”

“Right!” Louis says, getting up and heading for the stairs, leaving a very baffled Harry sitting alone on the couch in the empty living room.

“Right.” He echos.  
  
Harry eventually gathers his wits and scoots off the couch, gathering up the dirty dishes and the leftover cookies. He brings it all out into the kitchen, dropping the plates in the sink, before putting a couple of cookies in a plastic bag that he ties up and places next to where his mum is working. She smiles softly in return, but remains silent as she slices the cheese.

Right around the time Harry’s finished moving the dishes from the sink and into the dishwasher, Louis walks down the stairs. Harry does a double take upon seeing him; those black jeans are definitely his, and they _definitely_ fit Louis better. “You mind?” Louis asks sheepishly as he does a little swirl for Harry, all Harry can do is shake his head, earning a bright smile. “I really gotta go, don’t wanna miss the train.” He says, just as Harry’s mum puts the sandwich and cookies in a brown paper bag.  
  
“I’ll drive you. I’m going out for a late lunch with a coworker of mine, so it’s on the way.” She doesn’t even wait for a reply, just heads for the stairs, calling “I’ll be right down!” from over her shoulder.

“I can change to my own jeans, if you want me too?” Louis offers, making Harry realize he’s been staring at him, waist down, for a bit too long.

“No, it’s okay. You look really good.” Harry replies, licking his dry lips and finally tearing his eyes away from Louis’ thighs. Louis looks _way_ too pleased with himself.

“Yeah? Not too tight?” He questions, his voice dripping into something akin seductive as he turns to his side, giving Harry a perfect view of his profile. He’s pretty sure Louis’ even arching his back just a tad more than usual. He fails at keeping his voice collected.

“Nope.”

“Good.”

“Hey, Louis!” Harry’s mum shouts from upstairs, leaving no room for any response  before she continues, “Go ahead and grab a bottle of juice or water from the fridge for your lunch as well!”  
  
“Okay, thank you!” He calls back, heading over to the fridge and opening the door. He hums when he locates the bottles at the bottom shelf, and bends over at his waist, keeping his legs straight of course, to get a closer look. Harry bites his lip at the view. God, Louis is such a tease, there’s no way he doesn’t understand what he’s doing.  
  
Harry’s definitely caught staring. He definitely doesn’t care.

  
It’s only a few minutes later when Harry is standing in the hall with his mum and Louis, the two of them getting ready to leave. It’s surreal, honestly - shouldn’t his mum be the one watching _them_ leave?  
  
She finishes first and leaves with a kiss to Harry’s temple, saying she’ll be back in a couple of hours, and then leaves to start the car. At least she has the decency to let them say goodbye in private. Lord know she’s been clingy enough for the day.  
Harry scoffs at the thought as Louis stands up from tying his laces. The smile he gives Harry is enough to melt his grumpiness away, and as to keep the newfound mood going, and avoid any awkwardness, he pulls Louis into a hug, warm and tight and perhaps combined by a deep, but discreet, sniff on Harry’s part.

As they part, Louis places a soft kiss to his cheek and Harry is powerless but to return the gesture. He feels positively giddy as he pulls away from Louis - he’d probably feel a bit silly if Louis’ face didn’t express that feeling too. His grin is nothing short of beautiful as he leaves with a ‘ _See you later!_ ’

 

After locking the door and watching them drive away through the window next to it, Harry goes up to his room. His initial plan was to play around on his laptop for a bit, but that thought vanishes when he sees Louis’ pants and boxers bundled up on the floor.  
He walks over, lifting up the pants. They’re a rather bright green color, not something that Harry would wear, but they’re perfect for Louis, both in how they fit, but also in, like, loudness? They’re bright and attracts attention, but not in a overpowering or obnoxious way.

He doesn’t think they’d fit himself anyway, a little too short and maybe too big around the hips. They’ll probably hang off his ass, he thinks, not quite sure why he decides to put that theory to the test. He’s not really thinking about it, just makes his way out of his sweatpants and steps into Louis’ jeans instead. They are a little loose but not as much as he though, as they are of the stretchy kind. Regardless, he was right; they do sag a little underneath his bum, but other than that and the fact that they’re a few inches too short, they fit rather well. He walks over to his mirrored closet and twist and turn a little.  No, these are not the kind of pants he would buy for himself.  
  
It’s when he’s trotted back over to Louis clothes that his brain really registers that _his underpants are there._ The ones that Louis came in last night. He gingerly picks them up by the waistband, as he doesn’t want to get anything on himself, and his teeth instantly gnaws down into his bottom lip when he sees two ribbons of dried come on them. He knew it would be there, but there’s a difference between knowing and seeing.

And knowing that it’s Louis’ and it’s there because of _him._ Well, ain’t that arousing? He brings the boxers with him as he walks over to the bed where he unbuttons and unzips the pants - _Louis’_   pants. He’s bordering on half-hard already as he massages his bulge through the fabric with quick, rough moves as he scoots back on the bed. The sheets still smell of Louis, and he buries his face into them, taking deep breaths through his nose.

It doesn’t take long for him to get fully erect and he hastily pulls the pants down to mid-thigh, as he starts feeling too warm and confined. Memories of all the times he’s touched Louis flood his mind and accompanied by the smell and the fact that he’s wearing Louis’ clothes, he easily imagines Louis doing this to him, touching him like this, with intent. It’s absurd how much he wants it. Craves it.

His body feels flushed warm, his cock even more so, as he speeds his movements and tightens his grip. He wonders how Louis would do this, how quick he’d go, how tight his fist would be, whether he’d twist his hand like _this_ or maybe put some pressure underneath the head like _that_. His back arches in pleasure, so he grips the base tightly, wanting to drag it out.  
A few moments later, he moves again, but at a at a slower pace, letting himself drift on the edge of not enough and too much. It doesn't last long, he hardly notices that speeds up the movements breathing out Louis’ name and closes his eyes as he thrusts up into his own fist.

When he feels his stomach tighten up, he abruptly stops to pull the jeans back on, zips and buttons it up. Then, he rubs himself through it again, letting the harsh fabric rub against his sensitive spots, before squeezing his hands back underneath the waistband to get a hold of himself again. It only takes a few strokes before he’s coming, coloring the inside of the green pants white.

Harry takes a few moments to gather himself. Once it proper dawns on him what he just did there’s a sense of regret washing over him, almost as if he invaded Louis‘ personal space.  
But hey, what Louis doesn’t know won’t hurt him, yeah?

And Harry’s certainly not telling.

Absentmindedly, he draws a finger through the come on his lower stomach, brings it to his mouth and sucks it clean. Obviously, he’d rather it was Louis’, he almost longs to taste him again, and pouts a little at fact that he missed out last night. Turning his head left, he’s faced with Louis’ dirty boxers. He’s _definitely_ not desperate enough to lick at the cold, dry spunk that’s been laying there overnight - like, _ew_ \- but he does grab them to wipe himself down with the clean outside of them.  
It’s with a heavy sigh that he sits up, shuffling out of the pants and grabbing the boxers, as well as a few of his own dirty clothes. Once he's put the wash on - because there are certain things his mum does not need to see - he heads back to his room to get dressed,  and to send Louis a text.  
  
_‘Doing your laundry and generally being a good housewife.’_  Is what he settles on. At first he sits with the phone in his hand, waiting for a response, but when one minute turns into five, and then ten, he tosses it to his bed and grabs for some of his homework instead. It’s about an hour later when Louis’ reply comes.

 

 _‘I can totally picture that! Btw, might have to kidnap your mum, these sandwiches are amazing!!’_ Harry smiles, accidentally pushing his notebook down on the floor when he tries to just scoot them over a tiny bit. Oh well, it’s not like he was being very productive anyway.

_  
‘Um, sorry but no. My mum is mine, you have your own’_

_  
‘But I want both :(‘_

_  
‘Well that just makes you greedy’  
  
  
‘I don’t mind being greedy if that means I can have your mum! :)’_

_  
‘I doesn’t’_

_  
‘Rude’_

_  
‘:)’_

After a couple of minutes of waiting, Harry figures Louis’ break is over - either that, or he didn’t have a response, so he sets his phone down and goes to get himself something to drink. He pours himself a tall glass of orange juice and forgoes his homework to watch tv instead. Just as he sits down to exchange the glass in his hand with the remote, his phone buzzes loudly on the table, making Harry jolt and soak his t-shirt with cold, sticky liquid. He holds his t-shirt out from his body in an attempt to, well, feel less sticky perhaps?, picking up the phone to read the message from Louis.

  
_‘Btw, I’m free tonight, if you and your mum wanna watch the rest of the movie?’_ It says. Harry sucks his fingers and then wipes them on his pants deeming them clean enough to type out a reply.

 _  
‘I’ll call and check with mum.’_  quickly followed by _‘Also, you made me spill my juice all over myself.’_ He dials her number on his way up that stairs. Which- this is bizarre: calling his mum so she can hang out with him and a boy. Hopefully she won't be able to make it.

  
“Hi Harry.” She greets sweetly, before whispering to her coworker that it’s Harry on the phone, followed by the lady telling her to say hi, and then; “Erica says hello.” Harry rolls his eyes.

“Say hi back.” He mumbles, proudly managing to peel of the shirt without getting any more juice on himself in the process. “Are you free tonight? Louis was wondering if we wanted to see the rest of the movie.” He slaps his left palm onto his bare stomach, wrinkling his nose when the skin sticks a bit together as he pulls his hand back off. He’s definitely taking a shower. _How much sugar is it in that shit anyway?_

“Oh, yeah that would be nice! We’ll order in some pizza or something! He’s off at eight, right? I’ll probably be home around five.” Harry pauses his trek towards his dresser and belatedly agrees. Honestly he has no idea when Louis gets off.

“Alright then, bye!” She hangs up before he can utter another word. When he exits back to his homepage, he sees that he has a new message, and opens the thread with a smile.  
  
  
_'...I don’t really know how to respond to that..? But yeah, just text me after talking to your mum, my break’s over, so I‘ll just talk to you when I‘m done.’_ At first he just skims the words, but he has to re-read it properly to actually get what it says and then read his own last message to understand it. "Oh!"

 _  
_ _‘Wanker. My /orange/ juice, Louis. Get your mind out off the gutter. See you after work, we’ll order in.’_

  
  
  
  
Turns out: when you’ve decided to watch the first Sherlock Holmes movie, it’s very easy to get roped into watching the second one right after. By the time that one ends, it's nearing one am. Harry’s mum get up, stretching and yawning. “I’m off to bed.” She says, glancing at her watch with a slight grimace. “I’ve got a early shift tomorrow.”  
  
“Alright.” Harry answers from the couch. “I’ll just walk Louis to the bus stop.”  
  
Louis lifts his head up from where it’s been resting on Harry’s shoulder at that. “Thanks.” He says with a smile that's sleepy and soft. Harry stops himself from leaning in to kiss his forehead.

His mum looks at them for a few seconds. “He can stay.” She decides. “Saturday nights on public transport aren’t always the most pleasant.” She’s halfway up the stairs when she turns around and adds, “But no funny business.”

Louis has work the next day - on a Sunday, it makes no sense, but apparently it’s inventory-day - so they decide to head to bed right away. Besides, Harry has a ton of homework to do, so he already decided earlier in the week that Sunday would be his study-day. He’s braving the library even, and not really looking forward to it. They both go to Harry’s room first to strip down to their underwear, as his mum is still in the bathroom. Only a couple of more minutes passes before the telltale knock sounds on his door, at which he grabs Louis’ arm and drags him over to the bathroom. He fishes out a new toothbrush for Louis, and they brush their teeth in between silly grimaces and elbowing and laughter.

When they’re done, Louis puts the toothbrush alongside Harry’s own in the water glass.

Louis crawls in on the left side of Harry’s bed, just like he did the previous night. He fiddles for a minute or so, checking his phone and moving around a bit to get comfortable, before he eventually settles with his back to Harry and turns off the lamp placed on the nightstand next to him, the only light now coming from the lamppost right outside the window. Harry doesn’t hesitate as he scoots over to Louis’ side and wraps his arm around his waist. Louis doesn’t tense at it anyway, just presses his body back against Harry‘s, tangles their feet together, and then moves his head a little so that they can share the pillow as well.

Harry’s gone within seconds.

 

\--

 

When Harry is awoken by the alarm the next morning, he finds himself in that exact same position. He briefly wonders if they’ve moved at all during the night, but when he extracts himself back to turn of the alarm, his limbs doesn’t crack or feel stiff like they usually do when he’s been sleeping on one side too long. He reaches his arm over, smacking repeatedly at the top of his alarm clock, and wonders why the hell it won’t stop. Annoyed, he rolls over and firmly plants his hands on the bed in order to push himself up. Which is when the alarm stops.

“Sorry love.” Louis whispers, “It’s my alarm, I just really need a shower. You can sleep some more.” Harry lets himself fall back into the warm cocoon of his bed.  
  
“Second to the bottom drawer.” He mutters sleepily, eyes closed. Louis goes still for a moment, but eventually there’s the sound of footsteps, followed by the small creek said drawer makes when it’s pulled open and then another one seconds later, when it’s shut again.

   
“I’m leaving for work.” Louis says, startling Harry awake by caressing his shoulder. Harry takes a deep breath, groaning, as he fights his body’s desire to fall back under sleeps spell. Okay, so maybe not caressing, more like stroking or rubbing, but, details.  
  
"Mmph.” Harry responds, blinking one eye open in a poor attempt to ease himself into the harsh horror that is daylight. However, just as he’s about to close it again he notices the boxers Louis has picked out for himself. It’s the only item of clothing he’s wearing - surly that's a inappropriate work outfit - and they definitely draw attention; being bright red with a big, green, bow drawn across the bum and the words ‘jingle bells’ written on the crotch. Suddenly the light doesn’t bother him so much anymore. He sits up, ogling Louis as he does a small twirl. “Season’s a little off.”  Harry mumbles as he gets up and opens his underwear-drawer to pick out a pair for himself. Boring plain blue ones.  
  
“Couldn’t resist. Might steal them.” Louis answers as he checks out his bum in the mirror.  
  
“My sister bought them for me a few years ago, I always  wear them at least once when she’s home during christmas.” Harry explains, making Louis laugh.

“I’ll make sure to hand them back to you by then.” He says with a grin, accompanied with some eyebrow wiggling. Harry only rolls his eyes and heads to the bathroom to wash up a bit.  When he returns, Louis picks up where he left, “But, get this, I was thinking I’d actually wear my own pants today!” Harry mock gasps which makes Louis laugh. He’s far to cheery in the morning, Harry notices, and even his own mood seems a bit lighter.  
He plucks Louis' washed clothes from where they’d been hanging on the back of his chair and hands them to him. Seemingly without a second thought, Louis walks over to the drawer and puts his boxers in it. Harry can’t help but tuck his chin into his chest as he smiles. When Louis starts taking on his pants, he forces himself to turn around, and focuses on looking through his closet to find an outfit for himself.  
  
Louis joins his side as soon as he’s got his pants on and shamelessly ruffles through the t-shirts before picking out a black one and slipping it on. When did using others clothes without asking became socially acceptable? Not that he really minds.  The shirt is a little too large on Louis, and the neckline falls just beneath his collarbones, showing off Louis’ golden skin. Harry idly wonders how easily Louis’ bruises just there.

“Breakfast?” Louis half asks, half demands, already walking out of the doorway. Harry definitely takes the opportunity to admire the way the shirt covers two thirds of his bum.

  
“How ‘bout pancakes?” Harry asks once they’re situated in the kitchen. Louis hums in agreement. While Harry starts gathering the ingredients, Louis busies himself putting the kettle on and then, to Harry’s surprise, pulls out two cups from the correct cupboard. On first try. He sets them down and then goes about searching for their tea-stash. Actually, he determined crosses the room and pulls open the cupboard next to it, so he clearly has some idea.

Harry watches as Louis stares at the cupboard for a few seconds before mumbling _plates_ to himself, and closing it with a firm nod. It would be a lie if he said he didn’t find it a little endearing. When Louis opens the right one, he pulls the entire basket out and sits down on the floor with it. It takes some rummaging, but then he eventually there’s a noise of triumph, the prize that he waves in the air being a sachet of Yorkshire tea.  
Harry doesn’t like that tea and neither does his mum or sister, but his sister’s rude ex, however, did. It’s been over a year since they broke up, but tea has a long expiry date, doesn’t it? It is honest to god one of Harry’s least favorite teas - too strong and a tad too bitter - which is why he silently curses his automatic ‘sure!’ when Louis asks if he wants Yorkshire as well.

When Harry opens the fridge to get milk, he finds a brown bag on one of the shelves. A quick inspection reveals the name _Louis_ written in his mum's curly letters, and the boy threatens to kidnap her yet again when he sees it.

  
Once they’ve sat down with their food, Harry asks why Louis doesn’t work at the bakery like Zayn and Niall does. Louis replies he can’t cook or bake, to save his life, and Harry honestly doesn’t doubt it. “I’ll teach you one day.” He insists.

“I’d rather have you spoil me.” Louis replies, waggling his eyebrows, lips quirked up into a small smirk. It soon softens though, and Harry smiles back. Their eye-contact doesn’t waver for several long moments.

“When does your summer vacation start?” Harry asks eventually, breaking the comfortable silence.

“My last exam is on the 22nd. And then I’m going to Amsterdam with some mates from my music class.”

“Amsterdam?”

“Yeah, we’ve planned it for weeks. Niall’s going too! It’s our last year of music together, so a few of us decided it would be the perfect end of the year.”

“Sounds fun, how long are you going for?” Harry asks, forcing himself to seem more excited than he feels. Louis sure is looking forward to it, his face lighting up.

“We leave on the 22nd, which is a Monday, and come back on Thursday night.” Harry nods, stuffing a large piece of pancake into his mouth as an excuse to not prod further. He doesn’t want to know more, really.

  
After they’ve finished and cleaned up, they take the train together. There are a lot of people on it and that’s really weird as it is a Sunday morning - Harry wonders if there’s some kind of market or festival that he doesn’t know about, when he asks Louis he just gets a shrug in response - and they are lucky to actually find an empty seat. Just one though, which is how Louis ends up in Harry’s lap. They sit next to a lady with a rather big dog, so Louis ends up sitting sideways, his shoulder leaning back against Harry’s chest, while Harry has his arms wrapped tightly around Louis’ waist, fingers laced. At one point Louis starts drawing random patterns across his arms, just feather-light touches as they continue their conversation. Harry completely, totally ignores it.

“This is me.” Louis says, when the speakers announce the next station. It’s only one stop ahead of Harry’s, but he still doesn’t like it and juts out his lip in a small pout. Louis only laughs lightly whilst shaking his head, and leans in to kiss Harry’s cheekbone softly. He makes a movement, as if to press their cheeks together in a hug, put instead his head drops at the last second and he places another kiss to the junction where Harry’s neck and shoulder meet. Finally, he ghosts his lips up Harry’s neck, and then kisses the very corner of his lips.

It might be the most intimate moment he’s ever shared with anyone.

 

 

Studying in the library is as boring, as expected. The more he tries to concentrate, the more distracted he gets - there’s a gaggle of girls at a table nearby, and he can hear kids running about and whisper-shouting, and then there’s that guy on one of the couches that types on the keypad of his laptop so, so, _so_ ridiculously hard. He caves within 45 minutes, and pulls his headphones out so that he can listen to music, as a means to block out everything else. It works- except that he now gets alerted every time anything happens on his phone.  
  
He’s seriously considering just ignoring it and putting his phone on flight-mode when he gets a text from Niall. Still, he doesn't, and they text back and forth for a while, before they decide to go play football at the field close to Harry’s house the next day, and Niall informs him that the other boys will join in. Harry sends him a thumbs up, and then actually does activate the flight-mode. Not that he gets much done anyway.

 

After he’s home and has made and eaten dinner with his mum, he spends the rest of the Sunday night doing his part of the science group project that he didn’t get around to finish at the library. Then, he reads ahead in English and does the worksheet, so that he’ll have more free time next week.

It’s a really boring way to spend his Sunday, _especially_ since he's got the next day off due to more than half the school having a prep-day for exams, and he wonders when the hell this happened. When did he start passing up the chance to get drunk and make out with hot guys to stay in, doing homework and only taking a break to vacuum his room? If he proper thinks about it, he’s pretty sure he knows exactly when, but it’s still a bit scary to admit that Louis has such a hold on him.

When his mum finds out that he’s staying in _and_ doing homework her face lights up with the most genuine smile, and she even goes about baking one of Harry’s favorite biscuits. They don’t eat them in front of the TV like they usually would, instead, his mum sets the dining table and they talk and catch up.   
She has this fond smile when she says _‘I really like Louis, he’s such a sweetheart.’,_ and Harry bites his lip and looks down at his plate to try and hide the smile that curls its way over his own face. His mum catches it though, off course she does, but she only says _‘I mean it_.’ and squeezes his hand once over the table, before she lets it go. Harry nods as to say _‘Yeah, me too.’_  

  
  
\--

 

 

It’s been drizzling all morning, and it still is when they meet up at 11. The field is slippery and muddy, but that doesn’t stop them from playing for hours straight, and it’s the most fun Harry’s had in a while to be honest. He really considers the guys some of his closest friends now. It’s nice to be around people who likes him for reasons other than the drinks he buys them and his blowjob-skills. Because, sad as it is, that’s what most of his friendships boils down to. Either that, or it gets fucked up by feelings. His, theirs, it doesn’t matter, it always ends with another friendship ruined.

Niall has some other friends who shows up as well, and with them joining in, they can actually have a proper football match. It’s Niall and his three friends versus the rest of them, and  their one match lasts for more than an hour. In the end, Harry’s team win 4-2. The other guys leave shortly after the match is done, while Niall, Liam, Zayn, Louis and Harry stay and chat for a bit. It’s not too long before they decide to call it quits as well though, it’s already two thirty, and they’re all tired, wet and most of all; dirty.

“Do you guys wanna come by mine later?” Harry asks, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. “We can all go home and shower and stuff, and then meet back at mine in an hour? Mum's at work.” Louis agrees right away, however Niall has plans with another friend, and Liam and Zayn are going over to Liam’s parents for dinner. Harry looks over at Louis, “Just you and me then?” Louis smiles back and nods.

“But I’m not gonna bother going home first, though. I can shower at yours, yeah?” Harry nods, putting an arm around Louis shoulder to guide them away from the others, dropping it a moment later, but not without letting it travel down Louis’ wet back.

“Course. I’m guessing you didn’t bring a change of clothes?” Louis shakes his head no, and looks up at Harry fluttering his eyelashes, though the effect is a bit lost since they’re clumped together with raindrops.  
  
They walk in silence for a few minutes before Harry bumps his shoulder into Louis’. “I think I’m gonna have to go shopping one day,“ he says thoughtfully, “my clothes seem to just evaporate.”

  
When they reach the house, Harry locks them in and they walk to the kitchen for something to drink, as none of them had the mind to bring any to the match. Their clothes are dripping, leaving wet, dirty footprints trailing the floor where they walked, but Harry figures he’ll just wipe it up later. Definitely before his mum gets back home. “We can put the clothes straight into the washing machine.” He says, throwing Louis a water bottle. “Do you wanna shower first or second?”

“Um, well, I’d prefer to go first, but I can wait.”

“No you can go first, it’s fine.” Harry says, shuffling over to the counter when he sees a piece of paper with writing on it. “Oh..”

“What?” Louis asks, crossing the floor to peak over his shoulder. “Oh.” He echos seconds later.

 

_‘Harry._

_Water heater broke down, calling someone to come fix it tomorrow._

_There should be some hot water saved up, but no promises, so shower at your own risk._

_I’ll be home around 9.30._

_Love mum xx’_

“Um right. It’s been a long time coming?” Harry says, turning to face Louis. “So. Do you want us to have a super quick shower each and hope for the best, or..?”

“Or?” Louis asks, his brow furrowing slightly. Harry resists the urge to roll his eyes.

” _Or_ , we could shower together?” He says, shrugging his shoulder. Louis bites the corner of his lip, staring rather intensely over Harry’s left shoulder. “Like, we’ll wear boxers or something. And we’d have a better chance to wash properly, instead of quick rinse.” He adds, Louis nods.

“Yeah. Yeah, alright.”

  
Harry leads the way upstairs, going into the washing room and starts to strip himself of his clothes. Louis hesitates for a moment before following Harry’s lead, and they stuff the dirty clothes into the washing machine. When they’re left with just their boxers, Harry walks over to the hamper and picks a few other items to throw in there, and then fills up with the detergent and softener. And pauses.  
Thing is, their boxers are wet from the rain too, and it would be rather stupid to shower in dirty clothes, right? So, with slight hesitance, he quickly strips out of those too, and throws them in. He looks over at Louis, who seems both surprised and embarrassed, but peels off the wet underwear as well, and stuffs it into the machine.

Unlike Harry, Louis tries to casually cover himself, his cheekbones tinted with a light red color, as he looks at anything that’s _not_ Harry. As soon as the washing machine starts working, Harry walks out of the room, and Louis follows silently behind. He comes to a stop in the doorway leading in to the bathroom and turns to Louis.

“Do you want me to fetch us some underwear?” He asks, genuinely, because the last thing he wants is to make everything awkward. Louis seems to think about it for a moment, but then he shakes his head slightly.

“No, we’ll, like, be cleaner without.” He says. his voice is a little strained, though it’s clear that he tries to hide it.

“Alright.” Harry agrees, entering the bathroom. Louis steps in right after and closing the door behind himself while Harry walks over to the sink and bends down to pull out some towels from underneath it. He considers just bending his back, which is what he’d normally do, but figures that could potentially seem like a move in an attempt to be seductive, not to mention that it would definitely add to the awkwardness. Instead, he squats down in a rather nonsexual way. He places two big towels on the chair in the corner, and then hangs another smaller one on a hook right outside the shower.  
Louis is still hovering awkwardly by the door while Harry mills about, so Harry walks past him, locks the door, and then walks into the shower and turns the water on.

“You better get in here if you want a warm shower.” He calls. Louis quickly scurries into the shower at that.

Harry manages to keep his eyes off Louis’ body while he washes his hair with shampoo. It’s probably due to the fact that he turns his back to him. And keeps his eyes closed.  
It’s difficult, hell it’s almost impossible, but nevertheless necessary to avoid getting hard. He stays put as he rinses it back out, facing the shower head instead, and focuses on trying to get clean before the hot water runs out.  
  
At first they don’t talk at all, but then Harry needs the conditioner, which is located right behind Louis, so he has no choice but to face him. Instead of turning his body around, which would most likely cause some parts of their bodies to brush together, he just turns his head over his shoulder to ask Louis to hand it over.

he words fall short however, when he sees that Louis’ gaze is shamelessly directed at his bum, while he slowly, almost mindlessly, washes his hair. Harry tightens the muscles in his buttocks for a few seconds and smirks when Louis bites down on his bottom lip. A quick look down south tells him that Louis isn’t completely soft anymore. Harry can feel his own dick stirring at that.

He turns to face the wall again, and then coughs and waits a few seconds, before he tilts his head back over his shoulder.

This time he meets Louis’ eyes, that are a little wider than usual, face twisted into an expression that is probably supposed to look relaxed. “Could you hand me the conditioner?” He asks casually. Louis nods, and turns around to grab it from the basket on the shower wall. Harry turns around and steps out of the water spray to give Louis the opportunity to wash off. He lathers the conditioner in, while waiting for Louis to finish, and once he does, Harry presses another glob into his hand and uses the other hand to pull Louis in close. He can feel the line of Louis' definitely _not_ soft dick against his thigh. He looks somewhere between scared and aroused, his big, dark eyes search Harry’s. Still holding his gaze, Harry rubs the conditioner between his palms and then puts his hands in Louis’ hair, wordlessly starts massaging his scalp.  Louis  tenses at first, but his body quickly relaxes into it with a shudder. Harry takes the opportunity to turn them over so that Louis is against the wall, and slip one leg between the boys’. This makes Louis tense again, his previously half lidded eyes flying open, confusing written on his face.

Harry pulls at the back of Louis hair making the crown of his head thud against the tile, a barely audible moan slipping out. and then he leans forward and kisses him. It takes about half a second before Louis’ responds. Once he does, he sneaks his arms around Harry’s waist with open hands and fingertips searching down toward the curve of his bum, his lips melting into Harry’s effortlessly. Harry keeps his hands firmly in Louis’ hair, still working the conditioner into his roots whenever he remembers too, but mostly pulling and tugging on the strands that slip through his fingers.

Louis has a decent semi now, and every once in awhile Harry rocks their hips together, reveling in the way it twitches and hardens, the way Louis gasps into his mouth.  
However, with the water and all, the conditioner starts running down their faces. Harry breaks away the second he tastes it on Louis’ tongue. He steps back and rinses his hair out with his head leaned back and eyes closed, very aware of Louis watching with lust blown eyes and red lips. He eventually joins in under the spray as well, and they are pressed impossibly close together, bodies constantly touching somewhere.

With the balm all gone, Harry nudges Louis away again to grab the shower gel, squeezing out a generous glob. He hands the bottle to Louis, who follows his lead, and then grabs Louis’ right arm to start rubbing the soap into his skin.  
They spend quite a few minutes soaping each other in - torsos and backs mostly - exploring in a way they haven’t had a chance to yet.

While working on Louis’ stomach and hips, Harry attaches his mouth to Louis’ neck and sucks a bruise into the skin. Louis’ head falls to the opposite side to grant him more access, while he keeps rubbing circles into Harry’s back. With a final nip and a lick, Harry lets go of the skin, but doesn’t move his head away from where he’s nosing at Louis‘ neck. Instead, he traces his hand down Louis’ belly, and wraps around Louis’ cock, giving it a few languid tugs, till it’s fully erect.

Louis starts panting almost immediately. It’s captivating, the way his body just slumps against the wall all limp and pliant ,save for the fingers that are gripping into Harry's hips, when Harry has barely touched him at all. Harry almost, _almost_ , expect Louis to come all over his hand right away, but then he remembers that they’re not drunk. Louis is able to control himself, able to last- at least that’s what he promised last time.

Harry decides right there and then, that he’ll do whatever he can to make Louis break that promise. He’s been holding tight around the base for a moment, but now he let’s go, keeping his fist loose as he slowly moves his hand up and down, knowing all too well that it won’t be enough. Louis shows his agreement when he bucks into Harry’s hand eagerly. Harry uses his free hand as well as some of his own body weight to push against Louis, forcing him still against the wall. He keeps going at a slow torturing pace.

He can’t help it, he just really enjoys watching Louis come apart like this, he _finally_ gets to soberly savor it, and so he does, taking in every little detail on his face, every twitch of his body, the whiny noises of protest. But, he did have a plan: Without a warning, he doubles the pace and tightens his hand considerably so that it’s firmly gripping around Louis, probably border lining pain. It has the desired effect; Louis moans, loud and dirty, arching his back off the wall and his head and arse further into it.

Harry’s own cock is full and heavy against his stomach, but he fights the need to touch, figures he’ll find his release soon enough. His hand slides easily over Louis’ cock, but he rolls his palm roughly over the head to gather some precome anyway.

“Harry..” Louis moans huskily. It has Harry’s body shivering in both pleasure and anticipation. The shiver must set something off in Louis because suddenly a hand is wrapped around Harry’s cock as well. Louis tugs quickly and with a tight grip, and Harry falls against him, stilling his hand for a second as he bows down to lean his head on Louis’ shoulder. It gets messy from there on.

Harry’s experience is lost to the _need_ to come, and he picks the pace of his hand back up to match Louis‘. The room fills with moans and whispers and heavy breaths, Harry feels like he’s suffocating, and coming is the only way he can catch a breath again. He’s vaguely aware that he’s started to whine in the back of his throat, but he can’t be bothered to be embarrassed about it. Louis is releasing strings of _fuck_ ’s and _yes_ ’ and _Harry_ ’s anyway, so he probably haven’t heard him. Harry stomach is flipping, and his toes are curling, and his thighs are shaking, and he knows he’s _so close_ \- but he doesn’t want to come first. Louis’ always been the one to burst early, and Harry knows he won’t hear the end of it if Louis outraces Harry on this one.

So Harry plays it dirty instead, he shifts his hand a little, presses the edge of his index finger up and underneath the ridge of the head, squeezing at the sensitive spot there, as he uses his thumb to prod at Louis’ slit over and over again. Louis lets out a noise sounding more or less like a wail, speeding up his hand to something akin to the speed of light, as he comes between them. Even though his own hand is itching to move just as quickly, Harry holds back with all his might as he gently strokes Louis through it. As a means to get some edge off, he opts to bite hard down on Louis’ shoulder, hard enough to leave a proper bruise for sure.

As soon as Louis seems to come down, Harry slides his hand away from the softening dick and over to grab Louis’ hipbone with a firm grip, holding on to it while he thrusts up into Louis' still hand. It only takes Louis a second to remember his task, and with the rapid friction back and Louis’ heavy breaths and hums in his ear,  he has what is undoubtedly one of the best orgasm he’s ever had. His entire body trembles with the force of it, to the point where the muscles in his thighs actually aches.

He keeps his teeth buried in that same spot on Louis’ shoulder, his entire body leaning against him as Louis gets him through it. When he comes out of the bliss, he can feel that the water has gone cold, but it’s kinda nice, actually, as he feels overheated right now anyway.

He also realizes that his mouth still haven’t left Louis’ shoulder, though he’s not biting anymore. Still, Louis’ bound to be sore there, so he pulls back with a peck of apology onto the bruised skin. Louis runs his hands through Harry’s hair, and then tugs, bringing their mouths together in a long, wet kiss.

Ten minutes later they’re curled up together in clean clothes, cups of warm tea in their hands, and a blanket thrown on top of them. Once the adrenaline wore off, the icy temperature of the water sure did catch up to them. Hopefully they won’t catch a cold. They’re watching _Remember Me_   because that’s what Louis wanted, and Harry finds it hard not to indulge him. It’s hardly started but Harry’s already pacing himself so he won’t cry at the end. At the very least he can try.

“I don’t approve of the amount of sugar and milk in your tea.” Louis informs him matter-of-factly. Harry snorts, taking a satisfying sip.

“Well, it’s my tea. Mind your own business.”

“But it’s too sweet, I don’t like it.” Louis argues. This time Harry turns to look at him.

“Drink your own tea then, I don’t want to share anyway.” When Louis basically frowns, Harry tilts his head to the side and adds “I seriously do not see the issue here.”

“Well, if I want to kiss you, all I’ll taste is over-sweetened tea.” Harry chuckles and presses a soft kiss to Louis’ lips.

“I’ll guess you’ll just have to suffer through it then.”  
  
Louis does suffer through it, and several times at that.  
  
Every time they break a kiss off, Harry curiously glances over at the movie to see how much time has passed, because, see, the thing is, kissing Louis makes him feel like he’s in a limbo of some sort, and he’s just curious if time slows down or speeds up, as he honestly can’t tell. It’s kinda fruitless though, as he doesn’t recognize the scene most of the time. That, or he can’t place it at all. Besides, it’s not like he cares _that_ much.

Still, when he once again pulls up for air, and sees that they’re already at the birthday party scene, he actually jolts a tiny bit, because _, where the hell did the rest of the movie go?_ “Alright, if you’d rather watch the movie..” Louis starts, and completes the sentence with a dramatic sigh. Harry chuckles, turning back to Louis, and pressing his lips against his again. Only a short one this time though.

“Just don’t understand where the time went.” He says, making Louis grin. He looks beautiful like this, Harry realizes, with mussed up hair, and red cheeks that matches his red-kissed lips.

For some reason, probably the pretense that they're actually watching the movie, they’ve been sitting through their kisses, and Harry can feel the strain on his neck and his back is uncomfortable as well, so he leans forward to push Louis flat against the sofa. Louis has other plans though, takes advantage of the fact that Harry’s unbalanced, and pushes forward quickly so that he topples backwards and Louis ends up on top instead. Harry’s heart skips a beat as he loses all control of his own body, but it quickly settles when he lands safely on the couch, even though his head hits the armrest a bit too hard. It’s already forgotten when Louis grinds their hips together and shoves his tongue back into his mouth.

Harry’s arms are trapped underneath him, as he used them to break the fall, and he shifts up to free them and put them on Louis bum instead. He doesn’t gets a to knead at it for long though, before his hands are pulled away and pinned above his own head, Louis fingers intertwined with his own. Harry’s usually the one in charge; the one who calls the shots and decides how things are done, so he’s surprised when he moans out loud at the thought of being submissive to Louis.

  
Louis breaks the kiss just to smirk for a few seconds, looking all so smug, so pleased with himself. It really should be more annoying than it is. But the thing is, he enjoys Louis’ weight on top of him, and the fact that he’s at Louis’ mercy, that he can’t really do much but meet the grinding hips and eager tongue. Harry’s hard, they both are, and he can feel the arousal fluttering deep in his stomach.

He ignores how it feels a lot like butterflies.

Harry can’t remember the last time he came twice in one day by the hands of someone else, by the hands of _the same_ someone else, and it does nothing but add to how hot he feels all over, how restricting his clothes seem to be. It’s great, it’s wonderful and exactly what he needs and it’s-  
  
“Harry? I’m home!”   
  
-the voice of his mother ruining the mood.

  
Harry groans as he lets his head fall back, their lips parting with a wet smack. Louis scrambles off of him, sitting down on the cushion next to him, while Harry hastily grabs the blanket from the floor to cover their obvious bulges.

“In here.” He calls back after having cleared his throat twice.

“Hi.. Oh, Louis!” Her voice is laced with delight. Harry resists the urge to roll his eyes.

“Hi Anne!” Louis returns, just as chipper, glancing away from the screen to give her a smile, before returning his focus. He’s watching intently, as if he’s been paying attention all along - it’s kinda impressive, actually.

“Oh, no, this movie is so sad!” His mum exclaims, as she walks over to the sofa and plops down next to Louis. This time, Harry _does_ roll his eyes. Louis doesn’t seem to mind though. She sits through the last fifteen or so minutes of the movie, sniffling at the end. Harry actually manages _not_ to cry for the first time - probably due to the fact that he hasn’t paid attention at all - but he wipes at his eyes to give the impression that he did, lest his mother knows something’s not right.

“Alright.” His mum says, drying her tear tracks with the back of her hand. “I’ll get started on dinner then.”  
  
Harry smiles, about to stand up and whisk Louis upstairs, when Louis, ever the gentleman, asks “Do you want any help? I’m a horrible cook, but I can set the table or something.”

  
An hour and a bit later, the dinner is made and consumed, and Harry and Louis are _finally_ ushered out of the kitchen so his mum can clean up. “I have to leave soon though.” Louis says, as they make their way up to Harry’s room.

“Why?”

“Promised I’d watch my sisters.” He replies. Harry lets the silence linger for a moment, wonders if he’ll be invited along, but Louis doesn’t add anything else.

 “Alright, well I’ve got homework anyway.” He lies with a shrug, suddenly regretting finishing everything the day before. He can always clean his room or something though.

They end up just talking for the next half hour before it’s time for Louis to leave, and Harry walks him downstairs. He leans against the doorway between the hall and the kitchen as he watches Louis putting his shoes and jacket on. “You’re working tomorrow, yeah?” Louis asks as he zips the jacket.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll pop by. Could you bring my clothes? From when we played footie earlier, I mean.”

“Sure.” Harry agrees. The air feels thick and heavy as they look at each other for a moment. Harry absolutely loathes awkward moments though, so he steps forward and gives Louis a hug. He intends for it to just be short, like a normal hug between mates, but when he goes to pull away, Louis keeps him there, and well. It’s not like he’s gonna complain.  
When Louis does let go, it’s just so they can be proper face to face, arms still circling each other. Then, Louis leans in and closes his eyes. It’s a soft kiss, a press of smooth lips, while Louis simultaneously strokes his thumb under the hem of Harry’s shirt where it’s rucked up a bit by his hip.  
  
“Alright, see you tomorrow.” Louis breathes as he pulls back.  
  
Harry can’t help himself, presses one, two more kisses against his lips before he, albeit a bit reluctantly, sends him off.

 

  
  
\--

 

  
The next couple of weeks are rather busy, what with exams coming up for the both of them, and work on top of that. They both work Wednesdays, so they can’t see each other then, but the other days that Harry works, Louis pops by for at least a kiss and a coffee, both of which are always on the house. A few times he lingers, reading or typing away at his laptop. He lets Harry spoil him with delicious pastries, and all those other things he can provide for free, but it's far too distracting for the both of them, so they can't make the stays too long or too often.

The first week, Louis has two exams, one on Tuesday and one on Friday, and Harry has one exam on Tuesday. The week after, Louis has one exam on Tuesday, while Harry has his final two, Wednesday and Friday, and then Louis has his last exam the following Monday. They don’t really have much time to spend together but they manage to study together a few times, and they text and call a lot in between, so it works.

 

One of said study-dates is on Thursday the first week, and they actually manage to focus on their work. At least for a while - but then Harry’s mum leaves, and reading and taking notes turns into kissing and taking clothes off instead.

Harry blows Louis. It’s great.

Louis lasts for, like, five whole minutes, and the heaviness on his tongue and the ache of his jaw and the burn in his throat whenever he takes him in all the way are all delicious. So is his come, not as bitter as come tends to be, one of the better ones, for sure. Harry jokingly asks Louis if he’s been eating a lot of fruit lately, and when Louis’ cheeks redden and he averts his gaze, Harry finds it so endearing he attacks him with kisses. Louis cautiously, but curiously, pokes his tongue into Harry’s mouth during their kiss, but he is quick to wrinkle his nose once he tastes himself. It makes Harry break away to laugh.

“It still taste shit.” he pouts. Harry reassures him that _he_ likes it either way.

  
  
The second time Harry blows Louis is when they have another study date Tuesday the following week - Louis helps Harry prepare for his English literature exam, and Harry thanks him in his bed a few hours later. When Louis somewhat hesitantly offers to repay the favor, Harry politely turns him down simply because he’d rather have Louis do it when he’s comfortable with it, and Louis doesn’t seem to be. It’s not really pleasant when a guy gags in disgust while he sucks your off.

 

The third time is Sunday night, also known as the night before Louis last exam and his trip to Amsterdam. Harry makes it extra long and teasing, want’s him to remember it proper, wants it be good.  Louis’ moans and swears and the sheen of sweat covering his body highly suggests success. After, he gives Harry a great handjob, and then tries to sexily lick the come off his hand. The frown and scrunched nose kinda ruins the effect.

They lay together chatting a bit later, all whilst Louis traces patterns up and down Harry’s arm. When their conversation turns into more sounds than words and Harry’s eyes are more closed than open he intertwines their fingers and presses their hands to his chest. They fall asleep like that.  
  
  
  
  
Louis sets three different alarms at three different times the next day, and falls asleep in-between them all. Harry wakes up after the first one though, and stays awake to enjoy the feel of Louis’ weight on him and his warm breath fanning across his chest. He spends his time switching between stroking through his hair and scratching his fingernails up and down his back, and Louis lips are curled up into a soft smile against his skin the whole time. When Louis finally makes it out of the bed it’s too late to shower, so they just eat some breakfast before Harry walks him to the door.

Harry sends him off with him one, long _good luck_ -kiss and then another, shorter _have a nice flight_ -kiss, ending with a _enjoy your vacation_ -kiss that last longer than the two combined. When they break apart, Louis nuzzles his nose in Harry’s neck and whispers promises of a postcard, Harry pulls back and tells him he better fucking get him a souvenir as well, and then they laugh and kiss some more.

  
Around one thirty pm, Harry gets a text saying _’the exam went well! Heading for the airport now, see you in a few days babe xxx’_.   
Harry reads it over a few times before he types back ’ _That’s great!! Have a safe flight, miss you already! xx’_ ,

 

 

\--

 

 

 

See the thing is, Harry and Louis are not dating.

They’ve never discussed it, and they _are_ in the kind of situation where a definition would be needed before one could make assumptions. So, they’re not boyfriends. Harry doesn’t have a boyfriend.  
  
That means, Harry’s single.

Now, there's no need to that the wrong, because Harry values and cares for Louis and what they have, but they have no obligations towards one another, nothing that goes beyond free will. Still, Harry’s not a jerk, right. Harry has a conscience, a heart, feelings, all of that shit.  
  
But, see, the things is: Louis is in Amsterdam. And, what is the Netherlands famous for? Tulips? Windmills? Canals? Bikes? Clogs? Yes, all of those, however, they don’t have any affect on the relationship Harry has with Louis.

But, there’s _weed_. In brownies, in every café, every club, around every fucking corner. Now take that weed, add a portion of alcohol, a tad of sugar, pop music and some hot guys -  and there you have Louis. Or most likely his current situation, anyway. Louis is carefree when he’s drunk, always up for fun, always willing to dance, always the life of the party, always attracts the eyes of those around. Louis is also a horny bastard when he gets drunk, and Harry knows there’s bound to be plenty of guys that wants him. Unless they’re all blind idiots, but Harry’s not _that_ optimistic.

So basically, right now, at this very moment, Louis is dirty dancing with someone at a stupid crowded club. Maybe he’s kissing them, maybe he’s taking them to his hotel, or letting them take him home. Who knows? Maybe they’ll fuck him into bliss, because Harry’s not putting out, and Louis’ tired of waiting? What happens in Amsterdam stays in Amsterdam, right?

  
  
Harry was planning on heading home after work, really he was.  But the things is, its Patrick’s birthday, right, and Patrick is Harry’s friend, and how rude, _how incredibly rude_ wouldn’t it be, if Harry ditched his friend’s birthday to sit at home all by himself? Incredibly rude, is how rude it would be.  
  
So; Louis is in the Netherlands, doing drugs, partying at some wild clubs and fucking hot strangers. And therefore, Harry does not - will not - feel bad about having a few beers at his friend’s _birthday party_ at this big, hot club in the middle of London.

Does not.

Will not.

And okay, so _maybe_ he’s had a little more than a few beers, maybe more like.. five? six? which is still not that much! ..At least if you don’t add the nine shots he’s had as well. But fuck it, _he’s_ not doing drugs or shagging strangers! He might, _might_ , have made out with a couple of hot guys, but he’s still no worse than Louis, and besides they’re not even boyfriends so he can do whatever the fuck he wants!

“I can do whatever the fuck I want!” He informs a guy next to him. He’s not really sure whether he knows him or not, but the guy whoops and gives him thumbs up either way and Harry’s appreciates that.

This club is really nice, actually. It’s new, and it has three floors with bars and toilets and dancing. And the best part is that the top floor is, by some unwritten rule, the ‘gay floor’ and everyone knows it. It’s amazing! Harry found both of his kissing buddies up there, and there were so many more to potentially rope in!

He wonders if the club Louis is at is this cool.

Probably not.

Amsterdam sucks.

He’s trying to spend time down in the middle level as well though, since that’s where Patrick and all the other birthday guests are hanging out. But it gets boring sometimes, like it is right now for example, when everyone’s off doing something else. Some people are even getting ready to leave for fucks sake.

Harry has no intentions of leaving.That’s another thing he likes about this place, it stays open till like six am, and he is gonna take advantage of that. Louis club probably closed at two, or something lame like that.

  
Maybe Harry can suck someone off tonight. That would be nice. No one’s gonna taste as good as Louis, but the thing is, someone else is tasting Louis tonight. Most likely. Probably. Possibly, at least. Lucky bastard. Maybe Harry can suck off two guys tonight, that seems more fair. Two strangers for one Louis. Yup.

Harry smiles and hugs and kisses cheeks as he says goodbye to three of Patrick’s lame friends, who decided that three am was a good time to leave. There are five people left now, originally there were like, twenty, but they’ve all left within the past couple of hours. Two of them are a couple - a brown-haired girl who’s taller than her ginger boyfriend, and the third is a rather, ehm.. _floozy_ blonde who’s currently making out with yet another guy, and haven’t really talked to anyone in their group since they arrived.

And then there’s Patrick. Patrick, who’s currently pulling Harry’s arm. “Take me to the third floor Harry! Give me a gay experience for my eighteenth!” He slurs drunkenly. Harry laughs but easily agrees. It’s his _birthday_ , and anyway, Pat’s an attractive guy, so it’s not like Harry minds.

The music is loud and mind consuming, the bass thumping so deep the floor almost vibrates. Harry’s got a tight hold on Patrick’s arm as he leads him up the spiraling stairs.

He’s never done anything with Pat before - well, to be fair, the guy’s is a rather new friend - but he’s curious as to how far he will go. See, Patrick is straight, Harry’s pretty sure he’s got a girlfriend actually, but fuck that, it’s not Harry’s problem. As soon as they get up, Harry drags the birthday boy to the bar. There’s a lot of people there, some who openly checks Harry out, and he smirks at it, likes the attention.  
  
Then he wonders how much attention Louis’ getting tonight, and stops smirking.

He orders two drinks, pays for them both because he’s nice like that, and drags them back out of the clawing, sweaty crowd. Patrick laughs loudly when he sees the drinks Harry’s gotten them; soft pink, with sugar and a strawberry on the rim of the glasses and topped of with sparkly, flamboyant, dark pink umbrellas.

“Gotta go all out!” Harry explains. Patrick raises his glass in agreement. They down the drink in one go, eat the strawberries, and heads for the dance floor. He doesn’t recognize the song, it's not what he usually listens to, but he swings Patrick around, presses his own chest against his back and starts grinding in a filthy excuse of a dance.  
It’s fun, takes his mind off stupid Louis and stupid Amsterdam. But only for a second, because really, he’d much rather dance with Louis this way. Fuck. No. No, he has Patrick, and Patrick is hot as well, and _fuck_ if he lets this opportunity pass because he’s too busy thinking about his not-even-boyfriend.

He doesn’t know how long they dance for, but the song has changed multiple times by the time Patrick turns around and kisses him, wet and hungrily. Harry kisses back and does not wish it was Louis.

Does not.

They dance front to front for a while, and soon enough Harry can feel Pat’s dick against his hip. It doesn’t feel as long or thick as Louis’, but hey, a cock is a cock. “I’ll blow you if you want.” He offers, getting a groan of sorts in response, followed by eager nodding, so Harry leads the way to the bathrooms. It’s not like Indigo - no sexy dark backroom, no smell of sex in the air, no sounds of pleasure surrounding them - instead they have to lock themselves into a stall in the white and bright bathroom, but Harry doesn’t care. Doesn’t want to, at least.

He pulls Pat’s cock out of his jeans and strokes it into full hardness, which doesn’t take much effort at all, before he sinks to his knees. It doesn’t taste very good. It tastes more like Patrick fucked his girlfriend right before he came here, and only wiped it off with something dry, no water, no soap. Basically, it tastes vaguely of pussy. It’s disgusting. His heart isn’t in it, and his mouth isn’t really in it either, but it’s Pat’s birthday, right, so he sucks it up, quite literally at that, and does his best anyway. When it’s over, Patrick seems pleased and Harry wipes his mouth, pats his shoulder with a _Happy birthday mate_ and unlocks the stall to get to the sinks so he can rinse his mouth. Hopefully the next one he goes for tastes better.

When they get back onto the dance floor, Pat says he’s gonna leave, go home to his girlfriend or whatever, and Harry waves him off.

As soon as he goes back into the crowd, there are boys surrounding him, and he dances with them, one by one, only shoving them away when he sees someone hotter. He does that for god knows how long, but he still hasn’t found someone decent enough to go further with. Fine, maybe he’s picky, but he’s used to Louis fucking Tomlinson now, so his standards has definitely been raised. Besides, guys are throwing themselves at him from left and right, so he doesn’t really give a shit if he breaks a few hearts, or hopes, or whatever.

Having seemingly worked his way through the boys that are crowded around him, he starts shuffling deeper into the mass, but comes to a halt when someone calls behind him. He stops, turns, and finds a guy at least five years older than him, standing there with a drink in his hand.

“You forgot your drink.” He says, handing Harry the cocktail glass filled with bright pink liquid.

“Not mine, mate.” Harry returns, preparing to walk away again. The man grabs his elbow however, bringing them closer together. He laughs. It’s not a warm, curling laughter, like Louis’ - fuck him by the way - it’s more.. lukewarm. Or whatever.

“I think you’re a bit drunk, babe. You bought it like two minutes ago and then left it at one of the tables by the railing after only a sip.” He explains. Harry furrows his brows.  
Maybe he did? It’s not like he’s never blacked out before, and he did like the drink, so yeah probably.

“Right. Thanks.” He says, reaching out to take the drink, and almost tripping when the man pulls it back and away from him.

“Don’t I get a finder's reward?” He asks slyly. Harry gives him a once over, he’s dressed in jeans with a brown leather belt and a baby blue shirt tucked into them. He has stubble, like the 3-days-stubble or whatever the hell they call it, and he’s quite fit. Like, not super sexy or super cute or super pretty - he’s not _Louis_ , but he’s okay. He’ll probably do.

“Fine. Dance with me.” Harry decides, snatching his drink back and downing it. The man smirks, closes every inch of space there is between their bodies and grind their hips together. They dance for like half a song, before Harry realizes he’s still holding the empty glass. He snatches the strawberry from the edge of it and pops it halfway into his mouth, sinking his teeth in to keep it in place. As he turns around, he tries to raise his eyebrows, and he thinks maybe he succeeds, but he’s not sure, he’s not really feeling in control of himself to be honest. The man gets it anyway, bites the strawberry in half with a kiss. They make out for a while, Harry’s track of time is lost, but it’s not long enough for his lips to feel sore. The guy is a surprisingly bad kisser, _like seriously_ , but whatever, no one’s gonna compare to Louis.

He wonders if Louis thinks anyone compares to _him_.

Harry’s drunk. Actually, Harry may be more drunk than he’s been in his entire life, everything is slow and blurry, the lights all blended and the room spinning at the pace of a carousel, but he doesn’t pass out. It’s fucking weird, because that’s what he usually does when he‘s this drunk; passes out and wakes up the next day with no memory of the last couple of hours. Either that, or he vomits till he falls asleep by exhaustion.

Now though, it feels like he’s just clinging to this drowsiness, which really feels more like a out-of-body experience. It’s just… weird. The guy - well Brian is his name apparently, but it’s not like Harry’s gonna remember that tomorrow - buys Harry more drinks and kisses him a lot more too, though Harry’s not sure he actually wants that.  
  
By now his body is almost limp against Brian’s chest, and he feels like he could fall asleep, but he’s not really tired either, it’s like-  ..he can’t really place what it’s like. “The club shuts down in fifteen minutes.” Brian says in Harry’s ear, it takes Harry a few tries, but eventually he manages to stand up straight. He’s not sure if he’s swaying in his spot or if the room is still spinning on it’s own accord, but if he should guess, he’d say it’s a combination of both.

“Right.” He says, licking his sticky lips and shaking his head to try and get the blurry edges away. It doesn’t work. “I’ll blow you in the bathroom.” He hears himself offer, words hollow in his own ears, as if he’s talking in a big empty room.

“ _Or_ , you could come with me to my hotel room.” Brian counters. Harry considers it, hotel rooms are nice and warm and soft. Beds are soft, fluffy, warm and nice and stuff too. Definitely nicer than cold tiles.

Louis’ in a hotel room. Well unless he went home with a hot Amsterdamian guy. Still, “I don’t think I should.” Harry replies, but there’s no fight in it, though it should be, he knows it should be.

“I _do_ think you should.” Brian counters softly. Harry hums in reply as Brian taps his fingertips on Harry’s hip bones. What’s the harm, blowing him in a proper room instead anyway, right? It’ll be better for his knees, and maybe Brian wants to blow him as well if so they could actually lie in the bed.  
Also, Harry’s not sure he’ll survive a train ride home- wait, are there even any trains out at this hour? Maybe he has to take a taxi? He can’t really afford a taxi.

A few hours of sleep sounds nice too. Oh! And maybe, hey, if he fucks Brian, or Brian fucks him, whatever the dude prefers.. If he and Brian fucks, right, then that would break that stupid rule he has made for himself! 'Cause, if he fucks a stranger, Brian, who’s certainly not his boyfriend, then he can also fuck Louis! Since then he’ll be fine with fucking non-boyfriends, right? The rule is stupid anyway, at least when it’s stopping him from doing what he wants with Louis, and, _and,_ it’s driving Louis to fuck someone else!

This is the perfect solution, how could he not have seen it earlier? He just needs to break that rule for good! He smiles to himself, thinking about how happy Louis will be when Harry tells him he’s done with that, tells him they can finally do it. “Yeah, maybe I should?”  
  
The sun has just tipped over the horizon when they stumble out of the club. Well, Harry stumbles anyway, Brian has to keep his weight up as his knees are threatening to give in with every step he takes.  
It’s annoying, the sun, casting way too bright beams in between the shadows, and burning Harry’s eyes. That’s about all Harry notices while they’re walking down the street.  
That, and the fact that Brian seems rather distraught about the state Harry is in. Harry doesn’t know if it’s because he cares about his well-being, or if it’s because he’s not comfortable being seen with a boy who’s too drunk to walk on his own. He’d bet his money on the last one.

“Just wait here, okay? I’ve just got to fetch my key.” Brian says, and it’s only then that Harry realizes they’re already in a hotel. Brian talks to the lady at the reception, but Harry can’t hear what they say, it’s just mumbled sounds in different pitches. He thinks they look his way at one point, but he can’t really focus long enough to see. Everything is blurry, even his own hand is blurry when he lifts it to look. He can’t wrap his head around the fact that he’s really _that_ drunk.

Suddenly there’s a hand on his back, and his feet are moving towards some shiny surface that soon reveals itself as a elevator.  
  
“Maybe I shouldn’t do this.” He says, at least he thinks he says, he can hear a voice and his lips are moving but it doesn’t really sound or feel like him.

“Oh, you should.” Brian reassures, it doesn’t calm Harry at all. He puts his hands on the cold surface of the closed elevator doors, watches in his peripheral view as a finger press one of the buttons. He’s inside the lift then. He’s not sure how that happened.

“I should.” He agrees, not quite sure why he shouldn't actually. But there was something, a reason, wasn't it? It takes him a minute to remember. “But. Louis.” He frowns, scraping his non-existent fingernails along the metal, half-heartedly trying to claw his way out. He thinks he wants to go home. Actually, he’s pretty sure of it. Brian pulls his hands away from where they’re clutching at the door, holds them easily in one hand as he puts his other on Harry’s cheek.

“Louis’ not here tonight, is he? I am. You should stay.” Harry’s pulled out of the elevator and along a hall, his body following willingly, even if his mind is not. At least he thinks it’s not? His thoughts are covered in syrup, making them slow and heavy.

“But, I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t fuck you. I think I want to go home.” He mumbles, as Brian unlocks the hotel room and Harry’s feet willingly walk in.

It’s getting harder to think, harder to breathe, harder to be awake at all. The fuzziness that was dancing around the edges earlier has consumed him, and it’s just a tiny little square that’s not completely black. Harry knows he’s slipping out of consciousness as Brian lays him on a bed and starts undressing him, but there’s nothing he can do about it.

He wanted this, he wants this. At least he think so? He did at some point?  
  
He watches through fog as Brian undresses himself, then sticks two fingers in Harry’s mouth, but Harry can’t even move his tongue to cover them properly in spit before they’re gone again. He knows they go practically dry up in his bum, can feel the burn and sting, but he can’t really _feel_ it, he’s numb all over.

The last thing he sees before it all goes black is Brian spitting _once_ in his palm, rubbing it _once_ over his cock, and then thrusting forward.

 

 

\--

 

 

Harry wakes up with a pounding head, a queasy stomach and an achingly sore bum.  
  
It’s the fifth or so time he blinks awake, but he hasn’t been able to stay awake at all the other times, has been pulled back under right away. This time, he quickly registers that he’s not at home - the bed is far bigger, and white, and the curtains that are, thankfully, keeping the sun out, are not his. He lies there for a while, trying to get his limbs to work enough to actually move.

He doesn’t really know how long it takes, ten minutes, fifteen, twenty, thirty, but he’s finally able to sit up. It hurts even more when he does so, and on tip of that he feels extremely drunk and extremely hungover at the same time.

Belatedly he realizes he’s in a hotel room, but he has no clue as to how he got there. He can’t really remember much of last night at all to be honest. Well he vaguely remembers people leaving, dancing with Patrick, blowing Patrick, _fuck_ , but after that, it’s all black. However, when he moves a little, and it feels like someone cuts him open, he can make a pretty sure guess. The ten feet walk to the bathroom proves to be a real struggle. The elephants running around in his head combined with the urge to vomit makes him stop to lean, and just breathe, against every surface he reaches. When he manages to get in to the cramped room, he pees for far longer than he usually would, the fact that he hasn’t gone during the night a true testament to how out of it he has been. Emptying his bladder makes the rolling in his stomach calm down a little, so he manages to breathe the worst of the nausea away.

I probably takes him another thirty minutes to get dressed and make his way down to the lobby, having to have breaks in intervals due to the dizziness that has decided to join the party that is his body right now. He even spent a few minutes riding the lift up and down with other guests as he leaned against the wall, head hidden in the crook of his own elbow. Harry briefly wonders if he’ll die before he even makes it home.

“Excuse me, sir?” Someone says as he struggling to reach the exit of the building, and he slowly turns towards the voice, not sure if the person is actually addressing him. There’s a woman, age unknown, with what looks like light hair and a dark skirt suit. She’s standing only a few feet away, but he still can’t make out any features on her face.

He sees something white resembling plastic on the right side of her chest, and figures she probably works there. “Yes?” He slurs. She frowns a little, he thinks, but she rearranges her face into something a bit more professional, even if there’s still a crease between her brow.

“Your boyfriend said you would pay the bill when you left today..” She says, making Harry frowns, because, Louis is in Amsterdam and- boyfriend?

“I don’t.. I- what?” He asks finally, stumbling when she grabs a steady hold on his elbow and leads him towards the reception.

“You came in last night with your boyfriend, he said you would pay when you left today.” She explains slowly.

Harry rubs his palms over his eyes, the lobby is annoyingly bright and it's not exactly helping his current situation. “Um, right.” He says, looking through his pockets and pulling out his wallet. He finds a key card in it, and hands that over before pulling out his credit card.

“That would be 240 then.” She says, making Harry cringe. Fuck, he really can not afford this, who the hell did he come here with anyway? Surely Patrick wouldn’t do this? He swipes his mastercard, knowing he’ll have to ask his mum to transfer money so that the payment will go through without his account going into negative numbers. While he’s waiting for the machine to approve his card, he steps back and leans against a pillar that’s conveniently placed in-between the two computer stations at the desk. His eyelids drops, and his knees wants to drop with them, but he stubbornly fights against it. “Do you need me to call you a taxi, sir?” The woman asks, sounding concerned. Harry just shakes his head, grabs his card and the receipt that she’s holding out for him, and stumbles out of the hotel as quick as he can.

He doesn’t pay on the train, he can’t afford the train ticket and he _certainly_ can’t muster up the energy to fight with the stupid ticket machine. Thankfully no one checks, and he somehow manages to stay awake all the way. His stomach and bum is just as bad as when he woke up, and his headache is getting worse, but he’s not sure if that makes it easier or harder to resist the lure of unconsciousness.

A lot of people are watching him here as well - he can feel their stares even though he’s sure they’re trying to be subtle - calculating every move, every stumble, every time he nearly falls over because he’s too exhausted to sit straight. There’s nothing, no thing in the entire world, that he wants more than sleep right now.

  
How he manages to make it from the train station and home is beyond him. Normally it’s a ten minute walk, but even in this fucked up state he know he takes far longer. He has to stop and rest at every lamp post he passes, even has to sit down a couple of times, because he’s on the verge of fainting and he knows that hitting his head on the concrete would hurt for far longer than it would give him peace and quiet.  
At one point, he stands next to a bush, spitting for minutes, but nothing comes up even though the nausea is consuming him inside out. Sadly, he’s never been able to make himself purge.

A sense of relief washes over him when he sees his house. He feels like he’s about to die any second now, but the knowledge that soon, _soon,_ he can get to his own bed drives him forward. Even if he does die in it.  
  
He has no idea what time it is, he must have seen a clock since he got up, but he keeps blacking out all the time, and his brain has turned into a non-stick pan. Or, like, non-stick brain. He’s forgetting things, is the point. He figures that it’s sometime in the afternoon though, it feels like it is, probably looks like it too, but he can’t look up to register the placing of the sun without blacking out. He hopes his mum is at work, as he doesn’t really want to answer any questions right now. Probably won't be able to.

Sleep, he just needs some _sleep_.

  
When he finally stumbles into the house, there are voices. He’s so far gone he can’t physically sort them out, but he assumes one of them is his mother's, since it seems to be coming from the kitchen. And, like, she lives here. He prays that the other one belongs to one of her friends or something, making it easier to sneak upstairs and die. Well, sleep forever, anyway.  
  
He manages to make it up the very first step of the stairs before he’s caught. “Harry?” closing his eyes, he tries his hardest to focus on the voice that he _knows_ belongs to his mum, but is so dragged out and hollow that he doesn’t recognize it. Maybe if he just really, really, really quietly sneaks up the- “Harry, come to the kitchen!” He sighs; he only made it two more steps, and now he’s so dizzy he’s stuck hanging over the railings.

“No..” He moans, hoping he doesn’t vomit all over his mums cd-rack. There’s muttering - well, in his ears anyway - followed by a horrid noise that makes him shiver unpleasantly as he turns his head sideways to lean his cheek against the railing and look toward the kitchen.

His mum walks out. Followed by Louis. Great.  
  
“Where were you last night?” She asks, crossing her arms, while Louis just looks at him, his expression looks pinched, maybe? Harry can't really tell from the distance.  
  
This is probably what it feels like to be ganged up on.  
  
He refuses to look at Louis as he replies “Out.” and swallows past a lump in his throat that tastes like vomit.

“All night?” She inquires then. Harry rolls his eyes, immediately regretting it when it makes his head spin and thud harder.

“Yes.” He says, still not looking at Louis. “Oh. and you put hundred two on my card. credit. hotel need paid.” He’s slurring, but he thinks it made sense. He belatedly stops pointing his finger towards them - when did that start anyway? Taking a deep nauseating breath, he blinks a few times trying, and failing yet again, to make the blur go away. “Sleep. Need sleep.” He’s not sure if he’s telling them or himself, but he nods and starts to claw his way back up either way.

“Harry. Louis came right here after his trip to Amsterdam to see you.” His mum scolds. The tone in her voice brings him back to that one time when he was seven and didn’t invite a random girl, who lived a few houses down, inside when she showed up unannounced the day after he’d gotten a kitten.  
  
It was annoying back then, and it’s way past annoying now.

“Well then maybe. then he should ass, he should- fucking, ask me if I wants him to first. visit.” Harry tries to spit back, looking towards them. He can’t actually make them out anymore, not even when he squints. But that’s a good thing anyway, he doesn’t want to see the hurt he knows he’ll find on both of their faces.

“I tried. Your phone’s off.” Louis voices quietly. Harry just shrugs in return, takes another couple of steps before he needs a break. He grips the railings till his knuckles turn white, holding on as the room spins. Fuck, he’s gonna faint and he’s really not up for that. His head doesn’t feel like his anymore, it’s like he has no access to his mind.

“Are you okay?” Is the next question asked. Harry can’t even tell which one of them is asking it.

“Just need sleep.” He mumbles, he’s tired in more ways than one, and it hits him like freight-train then; the room starts viciously swaying, and then disappears all together.

 

Harry comes to as he’s being lead through the door to his bedroom. He feels a little better, his head not as cloudy and he can actually recognize Louis face up close, but he sincerely doubts it will last long. He's walking on his own feet though, just leaning heavily on Louis. How did he even manage to move his feet up the stairs without being conscious? He must’ve not fainted after all, which is good as he certainly doesn’t need to add any bruises or injuries to his already beaten up body.

Louis leads him to his bed, makes him sit on it, and Harry takes in a deep breath as he is reminded of just how much _that_ hurts.

“Why- um, I mean. Does your ..bum hurt?” Louis stutters as Harry lies down on his side, eyes already falling shut on their own accord. His hearing is still weird, like he's under water, so he obviously didn’t get miraculously fixed by blacking out.

“Yes.”

“Why?” Louis asks. Harry blinks his eyes open to look at him: he’s leaning against the opposite wall, fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt and completely avoiding eye-contact.

“Can we, please, just talk another day?” Harry asks, but Louis remains stoic and silent, so Harry sighs before he continues, “Why you think? Rather obvious, isn’t it?”  
  
Louis seems to be frowning, probably biting his lip like he sometimes does, but Harry’s vision is slipping again and Louis is a little too far away for him to get a clear view. “You slept with someone..” Louis mumbles silently. Harry closes his eyes again, thankful that his ears seems to have momentarily popped back to normal so that he can actually make out Louis’ words.

 “Yes.” Louis is silent for so long Harry wonders if he blacked out again. Or if his hearing is gone. He can’t make out whether or not Louis’ lips are moving so he wouldn’t know. Still, he watches Louis’ face intently, keeps his attention on him as best as he can to see if Louis will repeat a question he didn’t hear. When nothing comes, Harry breaks the silence instead, pleading yet again; “We can talk about this another time?” It hurts to utter the words, his throat is feeling raw - hey, there's another thing to add to his list of reasons to be miserable right now - and besides, _he just needs to sleep._ Sleep fixes stuff.

“So basically,” Louis starts, voice sounding like a mix between frustration and disbelief. “you just went on and fucked someone else, and then you expect me to treat it like it’s no big deal?” By the end of his sentence he sounds nothing but dejected though. There’s a dull pain in Harry’s chest.

He defeats every ache and pain in his body, and somehow manages to scoot up in his bed so that his upper back is resting against the wall. It takes him several seconds to recover and be able to carry on the conversation.

"Yes. Please. I’m sick,” He sighs and, when Louis remains silent, adds, “and it’s not like you didn’t take it all out in Amsterdam.”

"What?! Off course I didn’t!” Is Louis’ instant, way too loud and borderline shrill reply. Harry cringes at the volume, making a hand gesture to tell him to keep his voice down. “I actually thought we had something, _were something_ , so no, off course I didn’t bloody do anything!” He has thankfully lowered his volume, but he still sounds upset beyond reason. Harry slumps down the wall, as he rubs his hands over his eyes. They feel dry and sore, like he hasn’t blinked for days.

“Right. So you sat in your hotel room, all by yourself, every night. Great.”

“Going out does not translate to hooking up with someone, fuck- Harry,  what the fuck is wrong with you?” Harry doesn’t answer that one, he’s not ready to have that conversation. There’s another stretch of silence, and Harry feels like he’s about to drift off for real this time. Or did he just black out again? His body feels boneless either way. “You know what, fine. Fuck this, fuck _you_. We’re done. I’ll leave you alone with your one-night-stands and delightful hangovers.” Louis spits. He’s halfway out the door before he turns again with an achingly fake grin plastered on his face. “Almost forgot, I bought you presents!” He says. His voice sounds like sugary poison in Harry’s ears.

Louis produces a squared, colorful and very shiny paper bag out of thin air and starts rummaging through it. “Did you know, they have these small chocolate shops in Amsterdam? Where they have like lots of types on display, and you can put together your own box of chocolates?” He asks, it sounds a little rehearsed, like maybe he practiced it silently in his head on the way over. “So I made one for you.” He continues and throws a white box with a red bow onto the bed.

Harry doesn’t pick it up, just let’s his gaze fall on it, and then yawns. He really is tired. Louis sighs loudly, but he keeps talking anyway, a new story this time.

“We went to this souvenir shop that was filled with cow-related things, so I thought, ‘Hey, I’ll by him a stuffed cow, cause teddies is romantic and shit.’” And there it is; the size and shape of a jam jar, bouncing off of his head.

It definitely adds to the headache.

There’s some more fiddling in the bag, it makes Harry wonder how on earth one person can produce that much noise, though to be fair, there seems to be quite a bit of colored tissue paper in there. Those are some noisy bastards, aren’t they?

“Ah!” Louis exclaims, followed by a chuckle; humorless and dark. “I bought you some tulip bulbs!” He throws that bag onto the bed as well. It lands by Harry’s feet, but he is in no condition to retrieve it. “Guess what color it is.” He says, but it’s clearly rhetorical as he continues before Harry has a chance to respond. Not that he would have anyway. “They’re Indigo! Cause we met at Indigo, remember? Oh! And our favorite colors combined makes Indigo! Romantic, isn’t it?” The sarcastic tone he donnes is most likely supposed to hurt - supposed to make him feel bad - but it just doesn’t.

It only makes him feel tired and, quite frankly, a little annoyed, because it feels like a truck ran over his head and then backed up his arsehole, and he just wanted to come home and sleep, not to be indulged in this stupid drama.

So he closes his eyes, let’s his body slump back a little more, and tries to get comfortable.

“But, this is the best one.” Louis finally proclaims. Harry can’t even be bothered to open his eyes. “Thought it would be cute and funny and cheesy. Ironic, isn’t it?” Something lands on his lap. Not too heavy and not too hard. “Enjoy your hangover.” There’s a brief silence followed by his door being slammed shut, making his head thud even louder, though thankfully only for a moment.

He sighs, opening his eyes to peek at the last thing thrown at him. It’s a white t-shirt, some colors which is probably the Dutch flag, and then a white square in the middle filled with text. It takes Harry a few tries, and eye-rubs, before he can make out the words. _‘my boyfriend went to Amsterdam and all I got was this lousy t-shirt’._ He yawns and drops it to the floor.

Harry has just sunk deep into the mattress, letting the soft and warm duvet surround him, when the door is brutally opened again. The gifts from Louis are still scattered on his bed, well except the t-shirt he threw on the floor, and his eyelids feels heavy and as if they’ve been glued together, so he doesn’t open them. He hopes whoever it is will walk away again, but then there’s a heavy sigh so probably not.

Why don’t people understand that he needs sleep?

“Harry, come with me for a minute.” His mum demands, though it's not harsh.

“No.”

“Harry seriously, come. Now.” He can imagine her with her arms crossed and her foot tapping on the floor. He gives in and opens his eyes to find he was right.

“Why?” He challenges, smacking on a small pout for the full effect, but his mum just rolls her eyes. She’s a nurse, she should have some sympathy for sick people.

“You need to hydrate, and I need you to pee in a cup.”

“What? Why?”

“Just come on Harry, you’ll get back to your bed in a minute.” Her tone is softer as she sets a see-through plastic cup on his nightstand. “Go pee, I’ll get the water for you.” She says, and then leaves. He wants to ignore her, and just go to sleep, but he knows she won’t let it go. So he pees in the fucking cup and he drinks the fucking water and then he’s _finally_ allowed to sleep.

 

\--

 

His mum wakes him up Friday, about an hour or so before he has to go to work. Harry’s slept for almost eighteen hours straight. His head is fine and he feels rested, his nausea. however, has caught up with him, and he runs straight to the bathroom and vomits for ten minutes.

His mum calls him in sick at work. Harry goes back to bed.

 

\--

 

By Saturday evening he’s back to normal, expect for a still sore bum. As he has for the last few days; he sits in his room trying to regain his memories.

He thinks he remembers rather clearly to the point where Patrick left the club, but after that it’s pretty much gone, up until he wakes up at the hotel. There’s a vague memory of paying the bill, and a few glimpses of visions or smells or noises he can’t place at all.  
  
He has no memory as to how he got home, though apparently he stumbled in on his own. After that, the things he knows are mostly what his mum has told him, although he does have some flashes of memory here and there; mostly consisting of Louis settling him on his bed and then yelling at him. He thinks he remember that they ‘broke up‘ - _you can't actually break up with someone you’re not dating_ \- but he had to ask his mum to be sure.

She said they did.

He also remembered the tulips, and that they were Indigo, but when he saw the rest of the things, gifts, whatever’s, it was like he saw them for the first time. It scares him, if he’s gonna be honest with himself.

It’s one thing to black out when you’re drunk, been there done that, but he’s never ever blacked out from a hangover. Nor has he had a hangover that lasted this long. Then there’s the fact that he doesn’t actually know what happened, or _who_ it happened with. He considered asking Patrick, but Harry remembers that he left, thinks he remembers everything up to that point as well, so how would that help?  
He doesn’t really like to discuss these kind of things with his mum; boys, drinking, and the likes. She barely knows what happened anyway, and the only other person he can ask is Louis. And well, he can’t really call him right now, can he?

Basically he’s lost, and he doesn’t really know what to do about it.

  
One thing he _does_ know, is that he’s kinda angry at Louis.  
  
The tulips are - honestly kinda lame - but they’re okay. The Netherlands.. tulips.. he gets it. The indigo part of it is such a romantic cliche it’s practically pathetic.  
  
The chocolates are, well, everyone loves chocolate. But it’s not like the Netherlands are famous for their chocolates, and also, there’s nothing on the box that tells him _what_ kinda chocolates they are. Harry hasn’t eaten any yet, for all he know they could be filled with pot.  
  
The cow is ..fine. Apparently Louis thinks he’s three, but whatever. And the fact that the cow is still harboring his bed is just a coincident.

It is.

The t-shirt though, the fucking t-shirt, that’s what really pisses Harry off the most. Harry had just randomly picked it up from the floor, about to put it on when he saw what was written on it. Boyfriend. _Boyfriend._ It’s mean and it’s rude and it’s _selfish_ of Louis to give him anything with the word ‘boyfriend’ on it. Louis can’t just go around and put labels on things like that, assume that they are something they’re not- _forcing a relationship on Harry._

The thing is, Louis knows, he knows so fucking well how Harry feels about these things. He knows that Harry has difficulties figuring out his own feelings. He knows that Harry can’t always separate attraction from crush. He knows that Harry wants to be just friends.  
  
He _knows_ , because Harry has told him so.

They’ve had that discussion - and yes they had been drinking, but they talked the next day as well and they both said they remembered everything that happened: Harry said he wanted to be friends, and happily with benefits, as he’s used to that kind of deal and it wouldn’t be weird. Louis said he didn’t want that, was afraid it would be awkward, would rather stay just friends, and that he could experiment with someone else. They decided on staying friends. _Just_ friends. No benefits.  
  
Right, and that worked perfectly fine, until they rolled around in bed after drinking. And they kissed.

But the thing is, _Louis_ kissed _Harry_. Okay, yes, so, Harry was laying on top of him, and no he didn’t move away at first, but Louis is the one who pulled Harry in for the kiss. And!! Harry even tried to break it several times, but Louis wouldn’t let him. Louis broke his end of the deal, Louis blurred his own lines. Harry never did. And _that_ right there is the thing; If Harry had been the one who kissed Louis, then that would be him saying ‘I want to be more than friends.’

But no, Louis was the one who initiated kissed, the one who said ‘I’m fine with being friends with benefits.’

Except, apparently he’s not. Because instead of stepping out of his own comfort zone, he tried to push Harry out of his. Too bad that’s not the way things work though. Like, yes, Harry is attracted to Louis, and yes, he sometimes think they can be more. But Louis is the one who screwed this up, he ruined his own chances, and unless he comes back on his fucking knees and apologizes, this will be the end of them.

 

 

 

\--

 

 

 

Working with Zayn on the following Monday isn’t exactly delightful. Zayn doesn’t speak to him at all, simply glares and rolls his eyes and is pretty much the way he were when they first met.

Harry honestly couldn’t care less.

The guy is Louis’ friend, and it’s obvious that no matter how unfair or stupid Louis is, Zayn will always have his back. So instead of cringing at the deadly glares like he did the last time, he challenges it with a raised eyebrow and his best _come-at-me_ face. There are a few times when Zayn looks like he’s about to say something, but instead he just shakes his head and walks away.

It doesn’t matter, it’s not like they were great friends anyway. He’s not gonna kiss Zayn’s arse to get back into his good graces. After all, Harry’s not the one at fault here.

He does hope Niall won’t treat him like this though. Zayn has always been a little quiet, so it doesn’t make _that_ much of a difference - but Niall, Niall is loud and cheerful, and it would be weird if he just sat there and didn’t say a word.

When Harry gets back home, his mum is sitting by the kitchen table with two cups of tea. She gives him a sad smile as Harry cautiously sits down in front of the cup that’s obviously meant for him. “You don’t remember much from Thursday, do you?” She asks quietly. Harry shakes his head, then adds a shrug to keep the charade of indifference, both for his mum and himself. “Do you remember, after you got home, after Louis left? I asked you to pee in a cup?” Harry furrows his brows and shakes his head no again. “Right.” She says, and takes a sip of her tea. “I made them do some test at the hospital. You were drugged Harry. In fact, you had so much GHB in your system, it’s a miracle you’re not in a coma right now.” She takes his one of his hands in hers from over the table. Harry can see tears pooling in her eyes so he looks away uncomfortably, tinkering with the teaspoon, stirring the liquid again and again.

"Oh.” He responds, not really knowing what else to say. There's a bowl of fruit on the table, and he grabs a orange, mostly for something to do, some way to occupy his mind. They sit in silence for a few minutes, he peeling and slowly eating the fruit, and her watching, before she speaks up again.

"This is quite serious, Harry.” She says carefully. Harry nods numbly. “Do you have any idea who did this?” She asks then, voice soft and gentle in a way that makes his throat clog up the tiniest bit. Again, he shakes his head as a reply, this one a bit more gloomy though. He has turned the memories of that night upside down, and he still can’t remember anything. “Someone drugged you, took you to a hotel, _raped you_ , and then left you to pay the bill.” Harry’s head shoot up in alarm, he never told her anything about that night. Not a thing. _Definitely_ not that.

“How did you-” He starts but she cuts him off.

“Louis told me. Or, he said you cheated, but seeing as you were drugged, I assume..” Harry can’t help clenching and unclenching his left hand, the right one gripping the spoon so hard it feels like his skin may break over his knuckles. His mum trails off when she notices it. She puts a hand over his fist and softly suggests that he gives Louis a call.  She’s only trying to help, trying to soothe him, to _comfort_ him, he knows that, and yet, it does the exact opposite.

He can feel his blood boil as he pushes his chair back and hurries up the stairs, phone in his hand. Like, who the hell does Louis think he is, telling his mum, _Harry’s mum,_ that he fucking cheated??  
Louis certainly thinks he has some hold on Harry, some right to control Harry and make decisions on his behalf, that he actually has a say- but he doesn’t! Harry lives his own life, does what _he_ wants to do, and _no one_ can tell him any different. So he finds Marvin in his contact list, and texts him, asking if he wants to go out tonight. He's chosen an outfit before he even gets a reply.

See, if he wants to go out, then he will. If he wants to get drunk, then that’s his business. And if he wants to hook up with hot strangers, then no one can stop him.

Besides, Harry likes Marvin; he’s got money and they have a permanent agreement that goes three drinks for a blow job. Also, Marvin always brings weed, sometimes pills as well. Harry doesn’t usually do either, but hey, there’s a first for everything. And apparently, Harry has a fantastic tolerance for drugs.

  
It’s half an hour later when he makes his way downstairs. His mum is still in the kitchen, but she walks to the doorway when she hears the stairs creaking. “Where are you going?” She asks, trying to sound casual. The furrow between her eyebrows says otherwise.

“Out.” Harry replies, walking to the hall and tugging his shoes on, his mum hot on his heels.

“When will you be home?”

“Dunno. Don’t wait up.” He says, blocking out her reply and the leaving the house without as much as a glance towards her. He doesn’t want to see neither her pity or her worry. Nor that tiny glimmer of hope that surely has something to do with Louis.

  
  
They arrange to meet up at Indigo, because _in your face Louis_. It’s rather empty though. Well, there’s probably eighty or so people scattered around, but it’s usually packed, and it’s weird to not actually have to shove people out of the way to get somewhere. But, It _is_ a Monday, and the clocks not even eleven. A quick look around tells him that Marvin’s not there yet, so he orders a beer and sits at the bar as he waits.

A few people try to chat him up, but he’s not nearly drunk enough to entertain it, so he waves them off with short replies and clear disinterest. At one point a boy not much older than himself slides up to him with a pale pink drink in his hand, setting it in front of Harry. He seems nice enough, with kind eyes and a soft, shy smile and yet Harry unpleasantly shivers. Something tightens in his throat as he tries to politely decline so instead he ends up shaking his head harshly and turn his back to him.

All of a sudden his mind has gone a bit numb.

He’s just finished his first beer when Marvin shows up, joined by a few other guys that Harry vaguely knows. Marvin greets him with a kiss pressed to the corner of his mouth, and then orders and pays for two beers. He raises his eyebrows questioningly as he offers one to Harry, a pleased grin spreading across his face when Harry accepts it with a nod.

  
The club slowly fills up, and soon enough it is the tangled mess of sweaty bodies that Harry is used to. He dances a bit with a few randoms, but none of them catches his attention for long. He’s feeling wound up and jittery, uneasy,as if he can’t make himself relax enough to enjoy the night.  
Eventually he pushes away from his current dance partner and makes his way back to the bar where Marvin is still standing. Within seconds the third beer courtesy of Marvin is placed in his hand, and he takes a few big gulps of it.

“Wanna go to the back?” Marvin asks, pressing sloppy kisses against his neck.

“Come outside with me first?” Harry counters. Marvin shrugs and follows. “Do you have anything on you?” He asks as soon as they’re outside.

“What, like weed?”

“Yeah, or like, whatever..?” Marvin looks a little surprised but he still pulls out a small bag with a few joints in it.

He takes one out and hands it to Harry along with a lighter.

“Didn’t know you smoked.” He says, Harry shrugs as he lights it and takes a deep drag. He smokes just about half of it, deciding to save the rest for later. It does make him feel less wound up, and he gives Marvin a slow and proper blowjob as a thank you.

He also ends up blowing some other guy, Jack or John or something of the likes, before making his way home sometime past two.

 

 

\--

 

 

Harry sleeps till long past noon. The only reason he actually gets out of bed at all is because his mum practically drags him to the hospital, despite his protests. She’s insisting that he does some tests to see if the guy that raped him gave him any std’s. Or worse. Harry pretends that he’s bored the entire drive there, that he finds it unnecessary and that he doesn’t give a shit about any of it.

Truth is, he’s terrified.

He doesn’t really know how he’ll handle it if it turns out he has one of the _bad_ ones, but he tries his best to push it to the back of his mind. He’s not gonna talk about it, that’s for sure. Once the procedure is done he’s informed that he’ll get the test results in a couple of weeks. Except for the hiv test, that one he will get within 20 minutes. He tries his best to remain stoic as he waits - both for his own sake and for the sake of his mum, who’s sitting next to him and is clearly anxious enough for the two of them. He’s not able to though, he’s opening and exiting apps at random, restless legs shaking and his breath is a bit too uneven to be normal. At least his mum is kind enough not to mention it. Well, that, or she doesn’t even notice it at all.  
  
Waiting for the result is the most nerve wrecking feeling he’s ever had. It’s definitely worth the wait when they tell him he’s clean.

 

He goes clubbing that night as well. However he’s not really in the mood, he needed the fresh air more than the alcohol, really, so he only has a couple of beers and shares a few lazy kisses with a cute guy, before he makes his way back home.

 

 

\--

  
 

When Harry arrives at work Wednesday afternoon, both Niall and Samuel are there, chatting quietly by the pastries. The conversation immediately ends when Harry approaches, and Samuel asks Harry to join him in the office for _a small chat_. Harry’s throat tightens as he follows him in there - he’s worried that Zayn or Niall has said something, or maybe both threatened to quit if Harry wasn’t fired and- _fuck._

“Sit down.” Samuel says, his warm and friendly tone making Harry relax a bit. “Right, so here’s the thing. Susan, she is one of the day workers here, has fallen ill, and will be gone for the next couple of weeks. So, I was wondering if you could take some extra shifts?”

“Yeah. Yeah, off course.” Harry replies, letting out a deep breath as Samuel smiles.

“Now, you already work afternoons Mondays, Wednesdays and every other Friday.. Could you perhaps work the day shifts Tuesdays and Thursdays as well? It’s hopefully only for a couple of weeks.”

“Yeah, no, I can do that. No problem.”

“That’s great Harry! I’ll make a temporary schedule for you, just so there are no misunderstandings.” He grabs his computer, and gives Harry a nod, which he takes as a cue to being dismissed. Just as he raises from his seat, Samuel adds, “Oh, and there are always two on the day shifts, so you’ll be working with Zayn both days.” Harry’s answering smile is definitely not as genuine as his boss's.

When Harry returns to the cafe, apron on and ready for his shift, Niall sends him this curious look, but remains silent. “Just wanted me to do some extra shifts since Susan’s out sick.” Harry informs anyway. Niall nods once, and then turns to his attention back on the coffee he's making.

 

Samuel stays for another hour or so. He’s mostly in the office, but he’s still present, so Niall and Harry don’t talk at all. It’s not like Samuel wants them to be quiet, it’s just that Harry doesn’t really want to have this particular conversation in front of his boss.  
But then Samuel leaves, and shortly after so does their one lone customer. The air is thick with tension as Harry hurries over to clean the table, meeting Niall’s glare when he tries to casually glance over. He doesn’t say a word, just stands there with his arms crossed and jaw clenched, eyes piercing cold even from several feet over.

Harry sighs. He’s not gonna initiate the conversation - ‘s not like it’s Niall’s business anyway - so he figures the best thing to do is to just ignore it, instead opting to head for the back and empty the dishwasher. Once that’s done though,  there really isn’t anything else to do, and they both know it. Harry reluctantly decides not to be a coward who hides in the back, and exits the kitchen in favour of pretending to look through something at the side of the register.

“You’re a prick.” Is the first thing that comes out of Niall’s mouth.  Harry wants to roll his eyes but he restricts himself, remembering that he actually wants Niall to talk to him, and therefore turns to face him instead. “Seriously, why the _fuck_ did you do that to him?"

“There’s more than one side to the story. It’s complicated.”

“Then tell me your side!”

“It’s not really any of your business.” Harry replies, trying to keep the tone cool but friendly.

“It _is_ my fucking business when you hurt my friend like that!”

Harry does rolls his eyes this time. “Hurt goes both ways.” He says. Niall’s answering laugh is definitely jesting.

“Right: _you_ told him you don’t fuck non-boyfriends, then fucked a complete stranger. All _he_ did was asking you to be his boyfriend. I can _clearly_ see why you’re equally hurt here.”

“That’s not how it happened.”

“Really?! Tell me how it happened then!”

“He forced a relationship down my throat, knowing that I wasn’t ready!” Niall shakes his head at that, turning his back on him for a second to run his hands over his face and through his hair.

“Even if he did, even if that is the truth, it gives you no right to treat him like that.” He finally says. His voice is so calm, so collected, that it sends a shiver down Harry spine. He would honestly prefer the shouting.

“I didn’t treat him wrong.” He says, immediately biting back his words when Niall whips back around; his eyes have turned into small, hateful, black slits, his hands are curled into tight fists and his cheeks has donned a dark red color. “Not that it is any of your _business_ ,” Harry continues harshly before Niall has the chance to actually kill him. “but I was raped.”

Niall’s demeanor completely changes at that, his entire body deflates somehow as the previous fury is replaced with something a lot more.. empathetic, perhaps? The _“I- Shit. Fuck! Why, what-"_   is followed by a heavy sigh, one that might bode in frustration if the way he rubs his eyes with his thumb and middle finger is anything to go by. He stops his movements, but keeps his fingers pressed into his closed eyes, head still downcast. "Have you told Louis?”

The way he’s asking makes it clear that he already knows the answer's gonna be, “No.”

“Okay.” He says, opening his eyes again, composing himself as he takes a step forward, places his hands on Harry's shoulders and stares deep into his eyes. “I’m sorry you got raped, like it fucking sucks, and I don’t really know what to say to be honest, but if you _ever_ need to talk.." He trails off when Harry protectively crosses his arms over his chest - he doesn’t, thank you very much.  "But Harry, you can't be stubborn about this, you need to _talk to Louis_.”

“No. I don’t. If Louis wants to assume things, then he can-” Harry doesn’t get any further than that, because a hand is clamped over his mouth. Niall makes a threatening face before removing his hand slowly again.

“Harry. You are talking to Louis. That’s the end of this.”

“Bu-”

“No.”

“Nia-”

“No! We’re done talking about this.” Niall turns his back, effectively ending the discussion as he starts cleaning the espresso maker. Harry sighs, but puts on his very best fake smile as a bunch of teenagers burst through the door.

 

 

\--

 

 

Conveniently - or, like, _not_ \- the first thing Harry sees when he enters his house, is a pair of familiar vans. He can hear noises from the kitchen as well, quiet murmurs and clinking of glass, and he wonders when this became a thing; Louis and his mum drinking tea together while Harry’s out. Not to mention that said _thing_ should be done with now, as Harry and Louis aren’t even talking anymore. He walks straight into the kitchen, over to fridge and pulls out a can of coke for himself. He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t even glance over at them, just turns and heads to the stairs.

There’s the sound of a chair scraping against the wooden floor a few seconds later, followed by the sound of the footsteps that confirms that it’s Louis. How someone so light and petite can have such a thumping walk is beyond him.

When Harry enters his room he finds a cardboard box on his bed. He walks over to it and has a peek, and to no one's surprise, it’s containing some of his things. Specifically, things that has previously been in Louis’ possession. It’s such a typical dramatic breakup-thingy thing to do, and even more, it’s such a typical dramatic _Louis_ -thingy thing to do. Harry huffs, whether is is out of annoyment or amusement is yet to be decided. Harry sees Louis standing in the doorway in his peripheral vision; hoovering with his hands behind his back and looking uncomfortable as fuck. Good.

“I just came over to give back some of your stuff, but, um, your mum forced me to stay, said you had something to tell me?” He trails off at the end of the sentence, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, eyes locked on the box.

“Come in.” Harry says, albeit reluctantly, and pretty much only because Harry doesn’t want his mum to listen in on the conversation. Louis gingerly does as told, shuffling just enough to close the door behind himself.

“Right..” Harry starts, fighting against the strong urge to make Louis leave without telling him anything at all. “It’s not like it fixes anything, it’s not gonna change your mind about me - and not mine about you either, for that matter, but.." He sighs. "I was drugged and raped that night.”  
  
As soon as the words leave his mouth Louis’ face drops, _crumbles_ , and he rushes over to Harry so quickly it actually startles him. His hand finds it’s way to Harry’s cheek before he’s even come to a stop, and he gently strokes his thumb over his cheekbone once, twice, before curling it around his neck and crashing their bodies together with a force he didn’t know Louis possessed.

“I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry!” He gasps against Harry's hair, his breath hitching and voice cracking. Harry can’t resist at first, let’s himself fall against Louis’ body and buries his nose into Louis’ shoulder.  
  
It feels good. Warm. Safe. He let’s Louis kiss his hair, listens to his apologies, breathes in his sent, leans up into the hands that are stroking through his hair.  
  
But only for a few moments.

When he pulls back there are tear tracks down Louis’ face and it takes everything in him not to reach out wipe them away. “It doesn’t change anything.” He chokes out, belatedly clearing his throat when he hears how rough his voice is.

“What are you talking about? It changes everything!” Louis responds, his eyes confused as he harshly wipes the back of his hands underneath his own eyes.

“It doesn’t change what you did to me, Louis. And it doesn’t change what I did either.” Louis just stares blankly at him, so Harry takes a breath to brace himself for the inevitable anger he’s about to cause. “I made out with three guys and I blew the birthday boy, and _yes_ , I was drunk, but I knew what I was doing.” He explains slowly. “I wasn’t drugged at that point.” Louis’ eyes flashes with hurt, his teeth digging deep into his bottom lip, leaving indents for sure. “And I’m not sorry.” Harry adds when Louis remains silent, seemingly needing a moment to process what Harry just said.

His mouth slackens a little at that, closing and then opening and then closing again. His face has taken on a whole new level of hurt, and when he draws in a breath it’s somehow both sharp and practically inaudible. “You’re.. You’re not sorry?” He finally asks. It’s no louder than a whisper, but it might as well have been shouted across the rooftops. It makes Harry’s stomach tug uncomfortably.

"It’s not like- I’m not sorry that I did what I did, because we weren’t dating, yeah? We never were exclusive, right, so I didn’t do anything wrong. But I _am_ sorry that it hurt you, that wasn’t my intention.”

Louis shakes his head. “Seriously?” He demands with a humourless laugh, only continuing once he’s realizes Harry’s not gonna respond beyond a shrug. “.. wow, okay. So you did something that you knew would hurt me, and you’re not sorry for doing it, but you are sorry for hurting me. How does that even make sense?”

“I didn’t do something I _knew_ would hurt you! I did what I assumed you were doing, what I thought I had every right to do, considering we weren’t dating!”

“Right. Right, cause what, we were just friends with benefits?”

“ _Yes!_ ” Louis shakes his head and let’s out another one of those laughs. It seems somewhat cutting, or mocking maybe, so Harry crosses his arms over his own chest as he defends himself.

" _I_ said I wanted to be fuck buddies. _You_ said you wanted to be more. Then after we had decided to be just friends, _you_ kissed _me_. _You_ crossed the line over to my side, making us friends with benefits.” Harry explains for what seems to be the hundredth time over the past few days. Louis only rolls his eyes.

“Mmh, and this is the way you usually are around fuck buddies then? Soft pecks and goodbye kisses, and cuddles and holding hands? This is normal procedure?” He inquires.

 _That_ makes Harry take a small step back, both mentally and physically, because, “Well, no. But every beneficial relationship is different.”

“Yeah, the cue word being _relationship_ , as in what we had.” It’s accompanied by some heavy-duty gesturing between the two of them on Louis’ part and Harry responds by holding both palms up and letting his face twist into an expression that clearly shows just how much he disagrees.

“No. _We,”_ Harry says with emphasis as he gestures between them just as wildly as Louis had, “were not in a relationship, Louis, how many times do I have to tell you that?? You can’t just decide that on my behalf, and push me into it, and buy me a fucking _boyfriend_ t-shirt without even asking me what I want!”

Louis crosses his arms over his waist and huffs with exaggeration, as if Harry’s a toddler throwing a tantrum. “That t-shirt was going to be my way to _ask_ you to be my boyfriend, but you were so out of it I couldn’t! Not that you’d remember anyway..”

“Well, I didn’t exactly choose to be drugged and raped, did I?!”

“No, I’m not saying that you did!  But you’re just jumping to conclusions without even asking me and-”

“Well, can you fucking blame me? You’re sitting here saying we were dating!”

 “Because we _were_!” Louis yells.  
  
  
The silence that follows seem deafening.

Harry eventually walks over to the bed and sits down on it, rubbing his hands over his face. All of a sudden it feels like the fight in him has evaporated and now he’s just tired. In more ways than one. “We never said we were exclusive.” He repeats quietly, resisting looking up at Louis when he hears a soft sigh.

“I know, but I thought it was kinda obvious that we were.” Louis replies, voice just as quiet. He’s scratching the toes of one foot with the heel of the other, and it’s surprisingly endearing.

“It weren’t.”

“So what, you’ve been sleeping around on me this whole time?” Louis sounds incredibly vulnerable, and a quick glance upwards reveals that the way he holds himself matches the tone in his voice. it makes Harry want to scoop him up in his arms and cuddle him. He doesn’t.

“I never slept with anyone. I didn’t lie about that, I’m not a liar.”

It’s fascinating how quickly Louis' demeanor changes. His back straightens and he places his legs further away from each other, he pushes his chest out and squares his jaw and his voice is cold and biting as he counters,  “Right. You just snogged and blew them.”

Accusations like that would normally make him jump to defend himself, but right now he can’t even gather the will to get offended. “I never even kissed anyone. From the night I met you till that day - you were the only one.”

“Then what made you change your mind?”

“I didn’t- I didn’t change my mind _per se_ , I just figured that if you were in Amsterdam getting laid, I’d might as well have some fun on my own.”

“What made you think I would cheat on you like that?” Louis asks frustrated.

“Well, I dunno, hot guys and loads of alcohol and legal drugs, who wouldn’t?” The growl Louis makes is downright impressive. “And, it wouldn’t have been cheating. ” Harry adds - it is the key point here, after all.

“Well, _I_ obviously wouldn‘t. Would you?”

“Of course. As long as I was single.”

Harry watches as Louis drags his hands over his face and up into his hair, where he tugs on the strands over his forehead before roughly pushing them up and back. It completely messes up his hairdo and Harry’s hands twitches, fingers eager to brush through the soft hair, fix it back into it’s usual fringe. He doesn’t.

“So, you never, during our .. _time_ together, thought we could be more?” Louis asks after a moment.

“Well, I s’pose we could.. " He says thoughtfully. Louis face contorts into a expression he can't quite place, but it makes him a bit uneasy, so he adds, "But then you went and ruined it, so I’m not so sure anymore.”

Louis’ mouth literally falls open at that, and he stutters for a few seconds, before he shrieks out “ _I_ went and ruined it??”

“Yeah, I mean, you put a lot of pressure on me and made assumptions and-”

“Okay, hold the fuck up!” Louis says, abruptly cutting Harry off. Harry locks eyes with him for the first time in minutes and the look he receives is so chiding it makes him feel like a misbehaving child in the principals office. Well, not that he ever has been in that positions, but. details. “You _do_ realize, that me buying that t-shirt means shit, right? That this whole thing got ruined the second _you_ shoved your tongue down someone else's throat?”

“If you hadn’t put pressure on us then that wouldn’t have been a big deal anyway - so no!”

“Off course it would have been a bloody big deal! I would still have felt this way, regardless of your obvious lack of understanding! Fuck, Harry, how can you not get that?”

“No, it wouldn’t! Because we were just fuck buddies, and if you’d understood _that_ , then we wouldn’t have been in this whole mess!”

“We were more than that! _You know we were!_ ” Louis yells, before he takes a deep breath, seemingly to calm himself, and goes to sit down on the bed next to Harry. “Why are you so afraid?” He asks then, his voice back to gentle.

“I’m not afraid.”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“Is it commitment? Or is it feelings? Are you afraid of falling in love, is that it?”

“I don’t love you.” Harry replies, and it’s not like he spit’s the words out, but it’s harsh enough for Louis to tell he means it.

“I know that.” Louis says, rubbing his face, sighing. “And I don’t love you either. But I think maybe one day I could. And I think one day you could love me, and that’s what scares you.” Louis reaches over to take his hand, but Harry flinches away from the touch, moving his entire body away from the warmth of Louis’.

“Here we go with assuming things again.. You don’t know me. You don’t understand me. You can’t read my fucking mind, so please stop pretending that you can.” It’s a true struggle to keep his voice even, calm. Frankly, he's not so sure he's managing to do just that.

“I’m not-”

“Yes! Yes you are! You go and blame everything that went wrong on me, and then you try to pretend that you know me to justify it! It doesn’t work that way Louis!”

“Harry, you’re not-”

“No! Stop!” Harry cuts him off. There's a few loaded seconds before Louis reaches for his hand again. Harry jumps off the bed and goes to lean against his desk on instead. He's facing Louis, but keeps his eyes locked on a lone dirty sock on the floor.

“Why are you pulling away from me? I’m not trying to hurt you.”

“Well, it’s a little too late for that.” Harry’s tired. Tired of fighting, and tired of people not seeing things his way, and tired of Louis and- “Can you just leave. Please.” He says, rubbing his temples. He can feel the headache lurking; starting behind his eyes and then spreading like a tight band around his forehead.

“No.” Louis replies, softly but with determination. “I’m not just gonna walk away from this.” Harry sighs, closes his eyes, tries to breathe away the lump in his throat. He knows it’s a lie. People always leave, is the thing.

“Please?” Louis doesn’t reply. He _does_ stay put though, so that’s an answer enough on it’s own, isn’t it?

  
They remain silent for another while, but Harry’s lost all sense of time for some reason - it could be seconds, it could be minutes. “Just tell me what you’re scared off.” Louis begs. Harry doesn’t answer, but Louis continues, as if he’s talking to himself. In some ways Harry think he is.

“I get that you’re.. insecure, or whatever, but it won’t get better unless you talk about it.”

“I’m not.” He looks at Louis through his lashes, can see the way Louis’ brows furrows and his jaw clenches, as if he’s trying out sentences in his head, trying to find the right words to say.

“You didn’t like that I left for Amsterdam.” He concludes. “You were sure I’d cheat, find someone else.” He’s not looking at Harry, eyes cast downwards to where he’s using his right index finger to list off facts on the fingers of his other hand. Not that it’s a particularly long list. “You don’t trust me, is that it?”

“I trust you as much as I can trust anyone I’ve known for two months.” Harry replies matter-of-factly.

“Why can’t we just talk about this?” Louis pleads.

“Why are we talking about me? Why can’t we focus on you and your problems?” Harry argues back, and Louis raises his eyebrows on him.

“Fine! What’s my problems then?”

“That you’re too dependent on others? That you need to be reassured all the time? That you can’t handle not being in control? I mean take a pick!”

“What?! Oh my God, where is this even coming from? What, because I want to be with you? Because I want to find out why you’re pushing me away?” Harry huffs, shaking his head.

  
Their voices have raised in volume, again, and he wonders how much of this his mum hears.

  
“Have you considered the fact that I’m pushing you away because _I don’t want_ _to be with you?_ ” He counters and Louis rolls his eyes for what seems to be the hundredth time today.

“No. No, I haven’t, and you know why?” He pauses to give him a chance to answer, but Harry just crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow expectantly. “Because this Harry, and the Harry that I’ve spent all my free time with for the past few months are two different people. And when people change that drastically, it’s either because they’re scared, or because they’re two-faced. And I choose to believe the first.”

“Well, maybe I’m just two-faced.”  
  
“Would you rather people think that? Rather be a jerk than vulnerable?” Harry shrugs, aiming for indifferent. He’d rather not be any of them, really. He considers going downstairs, what with how long the next silence stretches. He doesn’t look at Louis even though he can feel Louis' eyes on himself. He's probably trying to stare Harry down, but that's a bit hard when there's no eye contact, isn't it?  Harry's definitely not gonna give him the opportunity, instead he just picks at his own nails and tries not to think. Thinking is hard these days.

His mind drifts to the half joint that’s still safe in his jeans pocket, he kinda wants to light it up, let it calm him down like it did the last time. Actually, maybe Louis should have some too, maybe then they could stop fighting.

He’s about to suggest it, when Louis speaks up again. “It’s because of that guy, isn’t it? The one who dumped you the day that you met Liam? You loved him and he cheated, right?” And just no.

No.

Harry can feel his body stiffening; his teeth are clenching together and his hands curling into fists - the frustration and annoyance from earlier makes a grand appearance as he spits out, “Leave.”

“So that _is_ it. He fucked you up, hurt you, laughed at you when you wanted things to get serious, and _now_ you’re so scared of getting hurt again that you push people away instead.” Louis has this smug look on his face, the cat who got the cream and all that. Harry never wanted to punch anyone this bad before.

“Leave. Now.” He grits out, breathing deeply through his nose. He’s honestly trying to gather himself, but it’s rather difficult when Louis has _that_ look on his face.

“I’m not gonna leave you Harry.”

“I want you to leave.” He repeats.

“No you don’t. And I won’t.”

“So what, you just gonna follow me around then?” He asks sarcasm and exasperation melted into one. Louis just shrugs.

“If that’s what it takes.”

“Are you really that desperate? You’ll stalk someone who doesn’t want you in the hopes of getting some action?”

“Are you really that scared? You’ll rather whore yourself out to hundreds of unknown guys, than giving the one you want a shot?” Louis counters without bite. Harry’s mouth falls open for a second before he composes himself again.

“Fuck you.” He spits. “You’re a dick.”

“And you’re an arse, so I guess we go great together.”

Harry’s lips twitches at that, he has to turn his back on Louis before the smile actually takes form. He changes his shirt to buy himself some time, and makes sure his voice is back to even before he, yet again, says “Leave.”

“Nope.”

  
And boy does Louis mean it. Harry fleets around in his room for a few moments, randomly looking through things and putting clean clothes away, throwing the dirty ones in a pile on the floor. He arranges a few books and puts a cd back in it’s cover, anything boring that keeps him occupied and will make Louis give up and leave. But the idiot just remains seated on his bed, elbows rested on his crossed legs and his chin in his hands.

 

Harry asks him more than once if he’s gonna leave anytime soon, but Louis simply says no, and Harry’s beginning to realize he might actually mean it. After a failed attempt at trying to read a book, he finally decides to head out himself instead. Without a word, he quickly changes his jeans to the ones he wore last night, and half-heartedly rustles through his hair as he checks himself in the mirror.

When he walks over to the door, Louis stands up and follows him. “Where are we going?” he asks cheerfully.  Instead of answering that, Harry calls for his mum once he’s downstairs and follows the sound of her reply to the living room.

“I’m heading out for a bit. I won’t be too late, got work in the morning.” She nods hesitantly, staring dumbfounded at Harry, and then something behind him - well, Louis probably. He puts on his shoes as quickly as he can, Louis keeping up and slipping into his at the same pace, and then they walk outside.

“Where are we going then?” Louis asks again. Harry ignores him. This is where the advantage of long legs kick in. Harry takes long and quick strides and so Louis has to walk even faster, _hell_ , he’s almost jogging beside him. It’s kinda cute, so he decides the best course of action is to ignore that as well.

Louis scampers beside him, silent at last, probably concentrating on keeping up. Harry considers going to the train station, to find some club in the city. His brain kindly reminds him that he has to get up early though, and truth be told, he’s not in the mood for loud music and sweaty dancing anyway. He abruptly turns left and crosses the road instead. It takes Louis a couple of steps to registers the change of course, but he runs up to him as soon as he does, and hooks his arm around Harry’s elbow.

“Don’t wanna lose you.” He says brightly. Harry firmly ignores the double meaning.

They end up at a local pub, one of those with stale, smoke-filled air, and boring music. It’s the kinda place where you’d expect to find old alcoholics and loud, middle aged women - and tonight is no exception. It’s quiet, just a few people sitting by themselves, except for a woman in a green dress who’s drunkenly trying to chat up the bartender. Harry walks over and orders one beer, but he realizes that Louis must’ve made some kind of gesture he didn’t see when two pints are being placed in front of him. He sighs loudly, but pays for the both of them anyway.

As he turns, he sees that Louis has already settled himself in a booth. He can’t help but let a small smirk grace his face as he picks up one beer and then goes to sit down somewhere else. Louis seems rather unimpressed, but he still gets up and fetches his own beer before joining Harry.

“You’re childish.” He chides. Harry hides his smile with a mouthful of beer. “I didn’t know you worked mornings?”

“Someone’s out sick.” Harry explains, because it would be rude not to answer, and Harry’s a polite person. Louis makes an _aah_ sound and takes a sip of his own beer as he casually tangles their legs together under the table. Harry pulls his feet away, and readjusts himself to be comfortable with on foot propped on top of the other. They sit in silence, mostly, and Harry really wants to pretend that it’s an awkward one, but reality is that it’s not. He’s always felt comfortable around Louis, and right now it feels like a curse.

Louis does asks a few questions, though, but Harry only answers them with mostly one worded sentences, and never asks anything back. It doesn’t seem to discourage Louis much, he smiles and crinkles his eyes as if Harry’s being his usual charming self. Harry finishes his beer within twenty minutes, and watches as Louis chugs down the last quarter of his as he gets up. It only hits him when they exit the bar that he actually waited on Louis to finish instead of just walking right out.

Once on the street Louis wraps his arm around Harry’s again. He walks with languid, heavy steps, purposely making them walk slower.

Harry doesn’t get it at first - thinks that maybe Louis saw something, or that his phone went off, maybe he needs to tie his laces - but as soon as he catches on, he tries to quicken their pace. To no avail though, as Louis forcefully hangs on like a vise as he strolls along and spews shit about the stars being bright and the air fresh and _oh my, have you seen how gorgeous those bushes are darling??  
_  
His comments are eventually reduced to a cheery hum, and it lasts for several minutes - long enough that Harry must’ve somewhat lowered his guard, because he’s definitely taken by surprise when Louis dons a sugary sweet voice and proclaims, “This was a really lovely date, honey.” Harry throws his head back and laughs for all of five seconds before he composes himself and clears his throat. He can see Louis' smug grin from the corner of his eye, but gives it no attention. His sudden outbursts has made Louis loosen his grip slightly, so Harry seizes the opportunity and detangles himself from Louis, half-jogging to get away. Not that he manages to shake him.

“I’m off then.” Louis says, as they reach Harry’s house and Harry immediately makes his way up the pathway to his front door. Just as he opens the door he hears a call of, “See you at work tomorrow!” He doesn’t look back, only closes the door softly behind himself.

  
He lies in bed, twisting and turning for a little while, annoyed at how he can’t fall asleep even when his limbs are heavy and his eyes dry. It’s only after he gets a text from Louis saying _’I’m home and safe. In case you were wondering. :) xx’_ that his body seems to relax, and he’s gone within minutes.

  
It’s just a coincidence, obviously.

 

\--

 

 

Harry’s shows up at work six thirty sharp the next day. Zayn hasn’t arrived yet, so Harry unlocks the door and begins to start up all the machines. They open at seven, which gives him enough time to arrange make baguettes and arrange the pastries, as well as make some of the most popular smoothies, as they have a bit of a rush the first hour.

He gets ten minutes of relaxed bliss before Zayn walks in. The boy doesn’t say a word, just heads to the back and gets ready and then, _somewhat_ gently, pushes Harry away from the blender to take over the task.  
To be honest, the hostility makes Harry relax a bit, he’s soothed by the fact that Zayn doesn't seem to know. It means one less person who wants to have a heart-to-heart with him. One less person who will tell him what he should or shouldn’t feel, what he should or shouldn’t do. One less person who will send him pitiful looks and sad smiles.

His mum has given him enough of those to last a lifetime.

They work well together, they always have, and when the customers starts pouring in, Harry handles the register and the pre-made food, while Zayn takes care of whatever needs to be made on the spot. With the steady stream of customers, there’s no room for small talk, and whenever they do need to communicate it’s professional on both parts; no malice or tension between them.  
When the breakfast crowd has twiddled, they start preparing for the lunch rush, which is apparently the most hectic part of the day. Zayn turns the radio up to the point where you’d have to make an actual effort to be heard over it - and thus ensuring that none of them will - but he’s quick to turn it down whenever any customers enters though.

It’s about half an hour later when Louis walks in.

Harry’s in the back, but he easily recognizes Louis’ chipper _‘Good morning boys!_ ’ Zayn grumbles something, and Louis says something back before he calls out for Harry. A part of him wants to ignore it and show Zayn that none of _this_ , like the fact that he and Louis are speaking at all, is his fault. There is, however, a petty part of him that wants to shove it Zayn’s face. Just a little. He knows it’ll probably come back to bite him in the arse, but at the end it’s that part that wins out.

“Hi Lou.” He says with a smile, getting a wide grin in return. “Can I get you anything?”

“I’ll take a tea please.”

“Coming right up!” Harry pushes past a glaring Zayn, and prepares the tea with a splash of milk, just how he knows Louis likes it. There’s no stools to sit on by the front of the counter, so Harry simply invites him to join them behind the counter, so that he can sit on the one they have there.

“Go unload the dishwasher.” Zayn commands. Harry rolls his eyes, but gives him an exaggerated, courteous bow. He lets his fingers graze Louis’ knee as he passes him, earning a small and warm smile from one boy, and several figurative daggers to his back from the other.

The flutters in his stomach are only there in excitement for riling up the latter.

He uses his time; slowly picking up each glass or cup or plate as carefully as possible in hopes of hearing the conversation. There’s no way he can though, not with the radio buzzing and swallowing up every word. And he can’t exactly walk out there to turn it off. He still tries to be silent though, just in case one of them raises their voice. He’d bet his money that Zayn would be the one to do that, as he has displayed a bit of a temper before, and it’s clear that he’s very protective over the people he loves. If anyone were to punch Harry for what’s happened, it would without definitely be Zayn.  
He does listen to his friends though - and with Liam being calm and rational, Niall laidback, and Louis sweet and kind and forgiving, he honestly doesn’t think any of them would let him.

  
When Zayn comes into the back, a few minutes later, he stops in front of Harry and crosses his arms with a non-to-pleased sigh.

“Lou says you’re working things out.” He states. Harry nods, searching for any indication that Louis has told him, but he still looks just as hostile and skeptic.

“Yeah.” Harry adds quietly, for good measure.

“Alright, as long as you don’t fucking hurt him like that again..” Harry shakes his head at that, and Zayn clenches his jaw, but gives him a short nod. He doesn’t offer anything more before he turns and walks out again, but Harry knows it probably took a lot just to do that, so he doesn’t complain.

  
Louis stays for the rest of the day, helping them a little during the lunch rush by bagging pastries and cleaning the tables as soon as they’re left empty. They radio stays on in lieu of conversation because apparently there’s more tension in the room now when it’s the three of them, than it was before Louis arrived. Louis keeps sending him these tiny private smiles during the day, and Harry mostly returns them, simply because he can’t _not.  
  
_ At the end of their shift, Louis offers to drive them both home. Harry halfheartedly accepts. Louis and Zayn chat easily, while Harry drops commentaries every now and then from the backseat. The temporary spell that Louis had cast on him is dwindling now, as if being outside of the cafe has somewhat kicked him back into the real world, and the annoyance from the past few days sneak up on him. He remembers the fact that he’s actually quite cross with the stupid boy, and the more he thinks about it, the more irritated he gets.

By the time they’ve arrived at Zayn’s flat, Harry has stopped talking altogether. He does say a short goodbye to Zayn, figuring it’s in his best interest to stay in his good graces, and he also climbs into the front seat. As soon as Louis makes an attempt to talk to him though, he cranks up the volume of the music and stares out of the window.

It works for about five minutes before Louis turns the stereo off. Harry turns it on again only for Louis to eject the cd and put it in the pocket of his door. Harry grits his teeth and goes to switch to the radio instead.

“Radio’s broken.” Louis says. Unfortunately, Harry finds he’s telling the truth when all he gets is that annoying buzzing noise. He admits defeat and turns the stereo off, thus filling the car with a silence that's louder than any music could’ve been. “Right, so what’s up with the sudden bad mood? I didn't tell him, if that's what you're worried about.” Harry rolls his eyes, but keeps looking out the window.

“If you think this is sudden, then I don’t know where you’ve been the past few days.” He answers, choosing not to express his gratitude about the last part.

“You were in a good mood at work.”

“Not really.” Louis hums, but doesn’t say anything for another moment. He drums his fingers on the wheel though, and Harry has to take a deep breath so he doesn’t snap at him and tell him to stop.

“Zayn said you told him we were working on things.” He reports, his tone is raising a little at the end of the sentence, making it linger somewhere between a statement and a question.

“He said it. I just nodded along.”

“So you lied to stay on his good side then?” Harry shrugs. “Well that’s not very nice.” Louis adds, making Harry snort.

“Yeah, what'cha gonna do? Punish me?” When Louis doesn’t reply, he throws a glance at him, only to be find a smirk grazing his lips. He must feel Harry’s eyes on him, as he turns his head slightly to look at him and twitch his eyebrows upwards once, then returning his attention back to the road.  
Harry swallows thickly and looks back out the window, completely ignoring how tight his jeans have become.

  
If he’s being, like, one hundred percent honest, he is a little disappointed when Louis just drops him off with a ‘ _bye, see you tomorrow_ ’ and drives away. It’s nothing to dwell on. Honesty sucks anyway.

He walks inside to see his mum making dinner, and by the look of it, it should be ready within a few minutes, so Harry goes upstairs to change into some comfier clothes.

“Was that Louis dropping you off?” His mum asks before he’s even crossed the threshold to return to the kitchen.

“Yes.”  
  
She hums as she fills two bowls with soup and gestures for Harry to take the garlic bread out of the oven. “How are things then?” She asks once they’ve settled by the table.

“In general? Good.”

“And between you and Louis?” Harry shrugs. It’s not something he wants to discuss, and, even if it was, he’s got no idea how to answer anyway. She watches him in that scrutinizing way way that only a mother can; it’s uncomfortable and it makes him a bit fidgety. He adjusts the way he sits and continuously stirs his soup.

Thankfully, she doesn’t inquire anything else, and they eat their meal in silence.

 

 

 

\--

 

 

Friday shifts are always hectic, with lots of loud teenagers talking and laughing and leaving messes when they leave. It’s honestly Harry’s least favorite work day, and today’s no exception.

Zayn and Harry are practically running around each other, trying to take all the orders, make said orders and clean the tables so they can have room for more people making more orders. It’s a never ending cycle. Well, up until they close, at least.  
Harry’s carrying three steaming cups of coffee to a table whilst Zayn is making the remaining four and there are two people in line, one of which looks quite impatient, so obviously, it’s at that point that a pack of five rowdy high-schoolers enters.  They sit down at the only available - recently vacated and therefore still messy - table, and immediately starts complaining. In a loud obnoxious way, of course.

Harry takes a deep breath, setting the coffee drinks down on a table circled by a gaggle of girls with a not-quite-there-smile as one of the boys calls out; “Ey, busboy! Come over here and do your fucking job, this table is disgusting!” He can hear his _cool_ friends encourage him with low laughs and high fives.

“Just a moment.” He replies as he turns to fetch two of the other coffees for the same table. He can hear the boys murmur between themselves as he delivers them and goes to grab the remaining two.

“Grab a bottle of vanilla syrup?” Zayn requests when Harry heads for the back to get a clean rag. He’s looking flustered as he stands at the register, the first customer taking their time deciding, while the one behind has her arms crossed and foot tapping. Harry nods, grabbing the rag and rinsing it with soap, before snatching the bottle on the way back out. He only turns for a second to put the bottle down on his way to clean the table, but it’s clearly too long: there’s the distinct sound of glass shattering, followed by what could possibly be classified as giggling, and he turns to find the five boys laughing, hardly even trying to look apologetic.

On the floor lies the shards of the three glasses Harry knows where previously stacked towards the edge of the table, waiting to be picked up. He digs his nails into his own palms, turns around, closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and counts slowly backwards from ten. He’s at seven when he feels a hand being placed at the small of his back.

“I’ve got this.” Zayn says quietly. Harry goes to protest, but halts when the boy walks over to the front door instead of getting the broom and dustpan from the back. He locks it and puts the keys in his pocket. “You will pay for what you broke, and then leave.” He tells the boys as he walks towards them with his arms crossed over his chest. It’s an authoritative stance and accompanied by the bitch-face he masters oh so well, it’s enough to have the boys shrink back. Only for a second though.

“No! It was an accident!” One of the boys argues. They all mirror Zayn, straightening their backs and puffing their chests out, but take it one step further when they push their hands underneath the opposite bicep to make them look bigger. They look completely and utterly ridiculous.

“It wasn’t. You can either pay now - or I’ll call my boss, he’ll call the police, they’ll call your parents, and you’ll still have to pay up. Your choice.” The boys curse, picking up their things and then throws the amount Zayn demands on the shattered glass, soaking the notes in the puddle of leftover tea and coffee. “Thank you.” Zayn says sweetly as he goes to unlock the door and holds it open as they walk out. “Have a nice day! Don’t come back.”

“Is it even legal to do that?” Harry asks as they carefully pick up the money, trying to avoid the broken glass.

“It’s what Sam’s told us to do, to make sure they don’t come back.” He replies with a shrug. They take the money out to the backroom to wash the coins and dry the couple of bills. Harry cleans up the mess while Zayn keeps attending to the customers, who appears to have settled a bit after what happened, as they get a few none-hectic minutes and a decent amount of tips - but once those customers are gone, new ones come in, and things kicks back up.

  
By the end of the day, Harry is rather exhausted.

They finally manage to politely kick the last customers out, a full five minute past closing time, and when Harry goes to take in the sign and lock the door he sees Louis’ car parked at the side of the road, his silhouette outlined in the bleak light. Harry jumps and waves to attract his attention and once Louis turns to face him, he spreads his fingers and mouths five minutes, Louis stretching out a thumbs up in reply.

Once the last of the mess is cleaned up and the lights are off and the door is locked, Harry slumps against the headrest in the back of the car and closes his eyes. He’s really tired, his feet are sore, and his head has started throbbing, and he’s just looking forward to go home and spend the rest of the night cuddled up on the couch with blankets and mindless telly and popcorn.

So when Zayn invites them both hang out with him and Liam, Harry politely declines. And so does Louis.

“You know, I really don’t mind taking the bus home from Zayn’s.” Harry says politely.

“No, don’t be daft, it’s no problem.” Louis replies, waving his hand. Harry would’ve insisted, except, he really _does_ mind taking the bus.

He must’ve fallen asleep on the way back home, as he's finding himself being gently shaken back to consciousness. He’s feeling groggy and disoriented, and the car is standing still. He eventually manages to unbuckle himself and stumble out the door, and doesn’t really think twice about it when Louis pulls the keys out of the ignition and follows him inside.

The house smells like pizza. He kicks off his shoes and heads straight for the kitchen, mouth salivating at the delicious smell, but before he gets very far, his mum calls that the food will be done in fifteen minutes. Harry takes a sharp left and makes a beeline for the couch instead, Louis hot on his tail. He plumps down somewhere around the middle cushion, and Louis squeezes into his right side.

“Louis!” His mum says delightfully when she comes into the living room, plates and glasses in hand. “It’s nice to see you.” They share a brief hug, before she disappears into the kitchen, shortly returning with another glass and plate, and a bottle of soda. “Pizza’s nearly done!” She informs.  
  
They agree on watching an old comedy they come across while zapping through the channels - they being Louis and Harry’s mum of course - but Harry doesn’t even consider arguing. Hell, he barely has enough energy to shove some pizza in his mouth.  
  
With the lights dimmed and his body full and warm, there really isn’t much to keep him awake. He slowly sinks further and further down into the sofa, his head lolling to the side, where it finally meets a warm and firm shoulder to rest on.

 

 

\--

 

Being awoken by the alarm at five am is definitely not a pleasant experience. But, Harry had promised to be at work by six to help making breads and cookies and cupcakes - which is something he’s been looking forward to. Also, there’s extra pay. And he gets to leave at two.

Still, it doesn’t make it much easier to get up at five. _Five._  

See, the bed is warm and the room is not. Well, not _as_ warm at least - and definitely not soft. He turns his alarm off with a groan and a roll, ending up with his face pushed into his pillow as he musters up the will to get out of his perfect cocoon.

He definitely didn’t get himself into it, he realizes. The last thing he remembers is falling asleep on the couch, but it takes no scientist to figure out how he ended up in his bed. And thank god for that, he can imagine just how awful his back would be right now if he’d spent the whole night cramped on the sofa. Well. The half night, let’s be honest, it’s fucking _five am._ Reluctantly, he drags himself into upright position and groggily sits on the edge of the bed for a good couple of minutes before his body cooperates enough to stand.

  
  
The day passes quite quickly, though the reason for that might be that he’s spending most of the shift halfway asleep. The day’s a bit of a blur, really.

Samuel teaches him have to make the dough for the cinnamon buns and the icing for the carrot cake but, as much as Harry actually wants to learn it, it pretty much goes in one ear and out the other.  
The rush isn’t too bad on early Saturdays, and paired with the fact that it’s drizzling outside makes it a rather pleasant morning, with few and polite customers. Harry also tells Samuel about the incident the night before, to which his boss just laughs and says he wondered why there were crusty, coffee-soaked money next to the oven when he arrived in the morning.  
The peace and quiet slips away when the crowd picks up a bit around lunch, but it’s nice to rush around for a few hours. At least then he doesn’t risk _actually_ falling asleep - something tells him it wouldn’t make the best impression.  
  
When Harry’s shift ends, he feels rather energetic despite the fact that he got up that early, so he walks around town for a bit, doing some major browsing and minor shopping. By the time he’s heading back home it’s all come crashing down on him, bones heavy and eyes droopy. He makes a beeline for the couch, naps for about an hour, and wakes up refreshed and in a good mood. It doesn’t take long to decide to go clubbing tonight. It’s been a while.

His mum is working the nightshift, as she usually does in the weekends - extra money and all that - and she leaves the house a little after nine. By then, Harry’s had a decent meal and a long shower, and he’s playing music in his room while he picks out his outfit for the night and nurses a few beers that he had hidden away in the basement. He briefly considers texting someone and ask them to meet him, but he doesn’t really feel like hanging out with anyone. Besides, he doesn’t know how long he’ll stay out anyway.

He walks around for a while, picking up some dirty clothes and doing some laundry while he’s at it. Time passes slowly though, and eventually he feels like he’s just going in circles.

Since it’s way too early to head out he pulls out his laptop to watch an episode of Dexter. The show is a bit nerve wracking at times, and this episode is no exception. His heart is already thundering as Dexter sneaks around in some guy’s house - so when there’s a sudden knock on his bedroom door, he literally jumps so high the computer falls off his lap.

He’s seriously considering to duck and cover, but he doesn’t get the chance to follow that thought through; the door slowly opens, revealing Louis on the other side.

“Your mum’s not home?” He asks, though it’s apparent he already knows the answer. “You should lock the door.” Well it certainly would’ve spared him the near heart attack.

“I though _she_ did.” He replies, fetching his computer and pausing the show.

Louis crawls up on the bed and settles next to him. “What are we watching then?” He inquires as he peeks at the screen. Harry doesn’t bother answering, just makes a mental note of the time the episode is paused at and exits it.

“What are you doing here?”

“Hanging out with you. Look! I brought crisps and chocolate and soda!” He pulls the items out of a plastic bag and chucks them onto Harry’s lap excitedly.

“Well, that’s great. But I’m headed out in like an hour..” Harry responds, shrugging the goods off and grabbing his computer again to look at the timetables for the trains and buses even though he knows them by heart.

“Alright, then we’ll just hang out till you leave.” Louis agrees, popping the bag of crisps open and taking a handful. Harry sighs dejectedly.

  
He’s not quite sure how Louis convinced him to watch pretty little liars. When the episode ends though, Louis sits up and gathers his stuff, the silent way to say he’s leaving. Harry quickly clicks on the next episode, clearing his throat and shimmying a bit as the ‘ _previously on Pretty Little Liars’_ rings out loud and clear, followed by the girl’s dramatic gasps as the montage begins. Louis halts his movements. “I don’t like cliffhangers.” Harry explains, even though Louis didn’t ask. Well, not with words at least, his body language however..  
Harry fluffs up his pillow and then settles back down, Louis hesitantly arranges himself back into his previous position as well, all whilst casting sideways glances at Harry, who resolutely stares at the screen. It takes a few minutes for Louis’ body to relax.

Harry’s body slowly slumps while they're watching, eventually leaving his head in perfect height to Louis shoulder. It’s only natural that he lets it rest there. Louis’ arm winds around his shoulders and his hand stretches up to his hair, lazily stroking through the curls with lax fingers. It’s very soothing, and honestly, that, added to the warmth of his room and the tiredness of the day catching up to him, leaves Harry in a bit of a daze. It’s about two thirds into the episode, when Louis shifts, causing the laptop  to tilt a bit to the left.  
When Louis doesn't immediately reach out to fix it, Harry bumps his head into Louis hand, only then realizing it’s not even moving anymore. When Louis doesn’t react to that either, he rolls his head off of his shoulder and looks up to find the boy asleep.

He sighs, but carefully sits up and the grabs the computer to turn it off. The movement makes Louis stir a bit, but after a moment he turns his back to Harry and curls up on himself, breath evening back out. Harry sets the laptop, as well as the leftover snacks, on the floor next to the bed, and then frees the cover out from where it’s trapped under Louis’ body.  
He has to lean over Louis to turn off the lights, and since he’s there, _so close_ , _so tempting,_ he only hesitates for a few seconds before he curls up around him and tucks his nose into Louis’ neck. If Louis decides to comment on it in the morning, he can always pretend it happened while they were both asleep.

 

  
Harry wakes up still wrapped around Louis’ sleeping body. It must be early morning, based on the lightning in his room, so he takes a deep breath and snuggles impossibly closer, ready to be pulled back under.

“Morning.” Louis says, making him jolt and scramble off of him.

“Um yeah, morning.” Harry replies, stuttering slightly, making Louis chuckle.

“It’s only six am.” He informs, “I woke up like five minutes ago, Have been trying to will myself back to sleep ever since." He sighs as he slinks out of Harry's grip. "I’m just gonna have a wee.”  He explains. Harry rolls his eyes, and sinks deep back into the bed. He feels annoyingly awake now though, apparently being scared halfway to death will do that to you. Harry can tell he's not gonna be able to fall back asleep for ages, so he decides he might as well get up. He flips over to his back and flings a leg over the side of the bed, whilst still laying down, body not as awake as his brain. Before he gets any further Louis returns and crawls back into the bed. He fits himself against Harry’s side, with his head on his chest, and throws on foot over his thigh and one arms over his waist.

Harry looks down on him, a little baffled. “Go back to sleep.” Louis says, rubbing his cheek against him, following it up with a chaste kiss at the same spot. Harry sighs and puts his foot back in.

After a minute of complete boredom he brings his hand up to Louis’ fringe with intentions to move back the hair that’s tickling against his skin, but when Louis makes a soft noise of content, he keeps gently brushing through the soft strands.

He doesn’t remember drifting back to sleep.

 

 

\--

 

 

A couple of weeks pass just like that. Louis makes a habit of driving Harry and Zayn or Niall - depending on which one is working - home, and almost every day, he follows Harry inside to watch some kind of movie or show. Harry is still trying to fight how much he likes being around Louis, but it’s proving to be pretty impossible at this point. It’s not that weird though, he reasons, they _did_ have an instant connection and Louis is a funny guy. And good company as well. No need to mention his looks.

However, they don’t talk much. Sure they have fleeting conversations, but not important ones. Not about important things. Not about _them_.

The touching is kept to a minimum as well. Save for that one kiss Louis pressed to his chest that early Sunday morning, there’s been no lips touching anywhere. There’s no proper hugs either, just heads rested on shoulders and the occasional cuddles when Louis stays the night. When they part ways they simply wave and smile. Sure, it’s a bit unusual, but, the thing is, Louis doesn’t push, and Harry doesn’t pull, and it works like that. They’re friends, it’s uncomplicated, they get along.

But.  
  
There is still that lingering eye-contact; the ones that last a few seconds too long. They still share those silent moments; when Harry’s gaze slips down and he takes in just how soft and kissable Louis’ lips looks - _are  -_ and he needs to shake off the memories that floods his mind. They still catch each other staring, sometimes, when they think they’re being to subtle to be noticed.

 

Sometimes, you just need a pause from someone, need to create some distance and take a breath.

Being around Louis every single day makes Harry feel.. well, he can’t actually put words to the feeling, because it’s not like he’s suffocating or anything like that. Hell, he didn’t even really realize he needed a break until Lucas called, and told him that they were throwing a surprise party for Calvin’s girlfriend, and it was kinda last minute and could he please come? And Harry realized that, yeah, some time away from Louis seemed like a good idea, even if it's just one night.  
He doesn’t really know Cal’s girlfriend, has met her a couple of times, but it’s not like he’s close to Cal either, so he figures they just need some people to fill it up. He knows there’ll be some familiar faces there though, he and Lucas hung out a lot at school last year, and they have plenty of friends in common. Naturally, he replies in the affirmative.  
  
Thus, when Louis shows up forty minutes before Harry’s off work and orders and iced tea and asks what they’re gonna do today, Harry simply replies that he’s going to a surprise party so he can’t hang out. He barely sees the frown on Louis’ face before it disappears again, and Harry watches as he leans across the bar and makes plans with Zayn instead.

He doesn’t really have any right to feel jealous, Harry tells himself, after all he was the one who made other plans first.

 

  
He arrives at the party at seven, Calvin’s girlfriend gets there at seven thirty. She squeals and hyperventilates and cries all at once and it’s all good and well, but there’s free booze so Harry kinda ignores her and goes to help himself instead. Cal’s parents are rich, and there’s a fine assortment of vodka and wine and beer. Harry starts with the beer though, knowing that if he goes straight for the vodka he’s bound to throw up within a few hours.

It doesn’t take long before people are chugging drinks left and right, shouting and dancing and generally having a good time. Harry lets himself get lost in the crowd as he halfway dances with random boys and girls and drinks. And drinks. And then drinks some more.  
It’s around midnight when he ends up dancing with this guy. He doesn’t know him, nor his name, but they’re grinding and somewhere along the way the guy started kissing his neck. It feels- well not exactly wrong, but not right either? Instead of it being sexy and a turn on, Harry just thinks about the fact that this dude is sloppily smearing his spit all over him, and yeah. No.  
He manages for a few more seconds, before he roughly pushes the guy away. He stumbles and then blinks at him, looking dumbfounded, but Harry just shrugs and walks back over to the alcohol.

With a house like this and a wealth like that, you’d think the family would have enough space to keep the drinks in a fridge. Apparently they don’t, as everything is laid out across the kitchen island, liquids gone tepid and unappetizing. Not that the people here seem to mind. They’re all too drunk anyway. A guy with a white cap and sunglasses hanging off of his vee-neck rudely pushes Harry out of the way as he reaches for the beers, Harry grimaces. Personally, he switched to the vodka a while ago, so he easily throws back two more shots. They might be lukewarm as well, but they bring another kind of heat, so.  
Actually, thinking about it, it’s getting really warm inside. The air is thick and heavy to breathe, and now that he’s noticed, it feels downright choky. He hastily pushes his way through the crowd and out to the front garden.

The party’s not exactly what he had hoped for, not the distraction he wanted. There’s a lot of people he’s never seen, none of which are particularly nice, and those he _does_ know are more acquaintances than friends and Harry’s really not in the mood for awkward chitchat. He’s barely seen Cal or Lucas at all, and quite frankly; it started getting boring over an hour ago. A lot over an hour, probably.

Harry wrestles his phone out of his pocked and squints uncomfortably as he scrolls down the bright screen till he finds Louis, pressing call. It doesn't ring for very long before Louis picks up.  “Hello?” His voice isn’t rough with sleep, which is good, he probably weren't sleeping then.  Though he does sound tired.

“Louis!” He coos. “Did I wake you?”

“Um, not really? But I am in bed..” Harry pouts, even though he knows Louis can’t see him.

“Oh. Well, I’ll hang up then.” He says, already pulling the phone away from his ear when he hears Louis saying something. He's not quite sure if he brings his phone to his ear, or his ear to his phone, but either way it's there as he lets out a loud, “Huh?”

“I said what are you doing? And why did you call me at..” there’s some weird noises before Louis finished his sentence. “..forty past midnight?”

“Well, I’m at this party, yes? And I think I wanna go home, but I don’t know the bus schedule. Thing. Can you check for me?” He hears Louis sigh, followed by some more noises he can’t really place.

“Where are you?”

“I dunno? The bus stop is the one next to that health center.”

“Um, Victoria?”

“Yes! That one! Can’t remember the name of the stop though. Maybe something with circle? Cycle? Or, like, cross? Crown?”

“Right.. I’ll come pick you up. Just, walk to the health clinic, I’ll find you, yeah?”

“Alright!” Harry agrees and hangs up with a smile. He turns to wave at the house in case anyone’s watching and then starts walking in what he thinks is the right direction.

It must’ve been, cause it’s not long till he finds the bus stop.

He sits down on the curb, legs stretching out way into the road, and hums a melody he must’ve heard at the party. It’s nothing he recognizes himself. Maybe he just made it up?  
Absentmindedly, he starts thumping out a beat - that may or may not be a part of the song, against his thighs. There’s a slight lump on one of his thighs, he tries to pat it down two or three times, maybe four, and then puts his hand in the pocket to fish out the lump when he realizes it's not working.

“Heeey!” Harry greets when Louis’ car comes to a stop in front of him, right as he pulls the object out. He repeats his greeting when Louis exits the car.

“Hi.” Louis replies, eyes zeroing in on the joint in between Harry’s fingers. He slaps it out of his hand and stomps on it when it hits the ground, even though it’s not lit, effectively rendering it useless.  
Not that it matters, really, he’d much rather have Louis anyway.  
  
Louis leans down to help him get to his feet. “God, how much did you drink?” he asks, puffing at Harry’s deadweight.

“Not _that_ much!” He defends. It's obvious that they both know it’s a lie. Harry doesn’t even realize he’s swaying till Louis stops him by grabbing his shoulders.  
  
“Have you done any drugs?” he demands, eyes fierce and serious.

Harry sighs, rolls his eyes, stumbles a bit on thin air. “No.”  
  
“Harry, seriously, I need you to be honest with me, I can’t take care of you if you’re not. Anything other than alcohol?”  
  
“No.” Harry repeats, this time keeping eye-contact. “Not that I’m aware of anyway.” He's aware that he sounds bitter, if only by the sad look that crosses Louis’ face. Still, Louis nods solemnly, squeezes his shoulders and slowly guides him to the car.  
Harry presses play on the stereo once they’re driving, and is delighted to find it’s a song he knows. He sings along loudly and Louis shakes his head and rolls his eyes, but there’s small smile tucked away in the corner of his mouth, so Harry just sings louder.

  
Louis insists on following him inside, because _‘I don’t want you pass out on your way up the stairs and break you neck’_ so Harry shrugs and lets him. He guides him up to his room and then leaves to get a glass of water while Harry undresses.  
Harry’s not really tired- except once he gets under the comfy covers, he realizes he really is. His mind feels slightly foggy, details of the night blurred out, but he doesn’t feel dizzy or nauseated so tomorrow probably won’t be too bad. Hopefully.

“Alright.” Louis says, sitting down on the bed. He holds out the glass and Harry obediently sits up and drinks it in a few big gulps. “Are you feeling okay?” He asks, pushing his fingers through Harry’s floppy half-quiff and letting his hand slide down the back of his head, pulling it towards himself to finally come to rest against Harry’s neck. Harry leans into it, closes his eyes and nods. Louis thumbs over his jaw once before letting go. “Okay. You sleep tight, yeah?” Louis gently instructs as he gets up. Harry is quick to wrap his fingers around Louis’ wrist.

“Stay.”

“Harry..”  
  
“Please. I want- I need you to stay. Please.” Louis hesitates, turning towards the door and then back to face Harry. “Please. I miss you.” He slides the tips of his fingers down Louis palm, intertwines their fingers loosely and gives a light tug. Louis presses his lips together, features conflicted, but eventually he nods and reluctantly climbs into the bed.

"You’re wearing a lot.” Harry comments once Louis is settled, because well, he is. Although his outfit is consisting of soft pajama pants and a flimsy t-shirt it’s still a warm summer night, and Harry doesn’t want to lie next to someone who’s sweating. “You don’t usually wear this much to bed.” He tugs on Louis shirt, and Louis sighs but crawls back out and takes it off. “Pants too, you don’t wanna get overheated.” Louis bites his lip, clearly unsure and hesitating, but ultimately he knows Harry's right, so he complies.

He gets back in and lays down flat, body tense and eyes glued to the ceiling. Harry rolls over, wanting to be as close as possible - moving, rolling, whatever, that quickly makes his head spin for a couple of seconds, but it quickly comes back into focus once he’s settled. “Hey,” he says, looking over Louis body, noticing just how stiff and uncomfortable he seems. “you’re really beautiful, you know that?” Louis seems to blush, but doesn’t reply, just turns his head so that he’s facing away from him instead. Harry wants attention though, so he peppers soft kisses along his bicep and shoulder and wherever else he can reach without having to move much.

“Go to sleep babe.” Louis whispers, trying to gently push him away by pressing his palm to Harry’s forehead as he turns to face him again. Harry seizes the opportunity, grabs his hand, and takes two of his fingers in his mouth instead. Louis moans. It’s euphoric and familiar, and it sends a shiver down his spine.

“I want you.” He whispers around the tips of his fingers. Louis is the one to shiver this time.

“No, Harry, you’re drunk..” He says. It doesn’t sound much like rejection, so Harry sucks harder, Louis breathing out a _fuck_ , before pulling his fingers out.  
  
“Harry-” He warns, wiping them on the bed covers.  
  
“I always want you.” Harry presses.  
  
“You’re drunk.”  
  
“And drunk people tell the truth, yeah? I always want you. Think about you all the time, about kissing you and touching you. Wanting you. I want everything with you.” Harry strokes his fingers over Louis’ hip, taking a gentle hold of it and urging Louis to turn on his side. Which he does.

“Maybe-” Louis starts, but Harry cuts him off with a soft kiss.  
  
“I want to have you in every way. Want _you_ to have _me_ in every way.”  
  
“You won't even remember, come morning.”  
  
“I’m not that drunk.” Harry replies. “And even if I were, even if I did forget, I wouldn’t regret it. I’ll never regret being with you.” When he leans in to kiss Louis this time, the boy allows it, encourages it, even, by pulling Harry up on top of himself and slot their lips together proper. The sudden maneuver and the movements that follows hits Harry with an intense wave of nausea, so he pulls back. Louis chases him. The close proximity makes Harry see two versions of him that blurs into one in the middle, and it's not really helping the nausea, so he nuzzles his face into Louis neck, and rolls his hips to distract Louis while he breathes the discomfort away.

It takes longer than he would’ve liked.

“Maybe..” He tries, the words thick in his mouth. He doesn’t get any further though; Louis shakes his head and rolls his hips, and the pressure of his erection makes Harry’s thoughts disappear. He dives back down, kissing Louis’ roughly, before moving to his neck, moving a wet trail behind.

Honestly, it’s kinda like he’s not there. Like he’s floating a few feet above the bed and just watching. Like the kisses and touches placed on his skin never actually connects, just hovers.

He chooses to ignore it, closes his eyes and focuses on making Louis feel good instead. When he opens them again, just a second later, their clothes have come off and there’s slick lube over his fingers. He can’t quite remember that happening. He shakes his head a little, hoping that if he shakes hard enough the fog will clear, but instead it makes him dizzy, so he grabs the bed sheets with both hands to make sure he doesn’t fall. The room spins quickly, and for a few seconds he’s sure he’s gonna throw up, but then it settles. He waits for another moment, then reapplies lube to his fingers, as what he had already applied stayed left behind in the bed sheets, and carefully wriggles a finger in.

When he goes to pull his finger out again, there’s suddenly three.

Louis is moaning and writhing, his skin glistening in the light of the small lamp, and Harry’s completely mesmerized, doesn’t even register that Louis is speaking until he’s swatting at his arm. “I’m ready.” Louis says, or, probably repeats, and Harry nods numbly and pulls his fingers out, Louis’ body arching with the movement.  
  
“Wait," he says slowly, forehead wrinkling and for some reason making his head hurt. "how would you know? You’ve never.”  
  
“There’s these things called dildos.” Louis replies impatiently.

Is it possible to be jealous of a inanimate object? He drops that thought when Louis slaps at his arm again, instead reaching over to his nightstand to grab a condom, but when he gets dizzy halfway he folds awkwardly over Louis body instead. He mouths at Louis chest a a disguise.

“Here.” He hears Louis say, and then he’s gently being coaxed back to sitting position and seconds later, Louis rolls a condom on him. Harry blinks as Louis lies back down, legs spread wide apart as if he’s offering up the most amazing gift. Which really, he kinda is. “You okay?” Louis asks, sitting back up as the moment drags out, and Harry gathers himself enough to nod. Louis is biting his lip, looking at him with a mix of lust and concern, and Harry leans in to place a kiss on his dry lips. “Actually… Can I ride you?” Louis asks.

Harry quickly shimmies down so he’s flat on his back. Between one second and the next, Harry’s hands have placed themselves on Louis’ bum, his right ring finger carefully touching Louis' rim where it's stretched wide to accommodate Harry. Louis is pressing fluttering kisses against his face and lips and shoulders and neck, muttering words like _beautiful_ and _gorgeous_ in between and Harry feels warmth radiating from his skin and settling deep into his bones. He grabs the back of Louis’ head and hauls him in for a thorough snog.

Louis riding him turns out be one of the best ideas ever.

All he has to do is lie there, really, which means that he can actually focus on the feeling of Louis hot and tight around him. He has moved a pillow underneath his head, mostly because lying flat just made him dizzy again, but; the bonus effect is that it gives him a perfect view of Louis, and all his glorious tan skin and his arched back and the facial expressions that tells tales of nothing but pleasure.

How long they go for, Harry does not know, but Louis looks and feels amazing. It’s clearly, well probably, overwhelming for Louis as well as he has to pause several times to kiss or simply breathe into Harry’s mouth. He starts whimpering at one point, a sound that Harry has heard several times before and knows all to well; Louis is teetering on the edge of his orgasm. Harry raises his hand to Louis’ cock and strokes him roughly, causing him to squeeze his eyes firmly shut and press what feels like bruises into Harry’s chest with his fingers. It’s only a few tugs before he releases, making Harry shake with the force of it, and then slumps forward.  He’s completely still for a moment before his mouth slides over Harry's collarbone and nibbles and sucks on the skin whilst gently moving his hips in circles. Soon enough, Harry’s stomach tenses and he comes as well.

 

 

\--

 

 

 

Waking up with a terrible headache is never fun. Harry blindly rolls out of bed and makes his way to the bathroom in slow steps, only squinting one eye open when he steps into the hall.  
The bathroom lights are bright as fuck, so he leaves them off as he has a wee and washes his hands.  
It’s not until his eyes have adjusted to the dim room that he catches sight of his torso in the mirror and notices a shadow on his stomach. Upon looking down, he realizes that said shadow is in fact dried spunk. Also, he’s naked.  
He stumbles as his knees threaten to give in underneath him but manages to get down on them without shattering his kneecaps on the tiled floor. The gagging starts before he’s even made it to the toilet, but luckily he manages to hold off the actual vomiting till he reaches it. It’s not much, mainly liquid, and despite the churning feeling in his gut the nausea passes. He pulls himself back up, turns on the lights and grabs a washcloth, before stepping into the shower.

When he gets out, his skin is red from all the rubbing. He still doesn’t feel clean.

He takes a few shallow breaths before he enters the bedroom, not knowing who he’s gonna find there - if anyone at all. Keeping his eyes on the wall opposite his bed, he grabs a pair of clean boxers from his drawer. After having put them on, he quietly moves as close to the bed as he can to see who’s lying there. He quickly recognizes Louis - even in the semi-dark, and with his hair tossed over his eyes and the bedcovers pulled up to his chin - and wave of gratitude washes over him, eases up the pressure in his chest, allows him to slump his back and take a breath deep enough to actually fill up his lungs.

Then, he steps on the empty condom wrapper.

 

He’s being ridiculous really; sitting on the couch with a blanket wrapped around him and his throat still raw from the second round of vomiting. He’s nibbling on some plain yogurt mixed with honey - to soothe his throat - and sprinkled with blueberries - because they‘re delicious - as he stares at the black screen of the tv.

It’s ridiculous, because it’s Louis, and he _knows_ Louis, and it should be fine, shouldn’t it?

But he doesn’t remember much, he was drunk, like he was fucking _pissed_ and Louis was sober, and- He sighs, feeling his eyes sting and he blinks heavily, wondering how they can feel so dry when he can practically feel the tears gathering.

It’s just.. he can’t shake that feeling, the same one that he had a few weeks back.

 

The sound of footsteps automatically makes him tense up, hardly breathing as he hears them cross the room located over his head and over to the stairs. Louis is only wearing a pair of Harry’s boxers. His walk is a bit off.  
  
The food in Harry’s mouth swells, almost chokes him. Louis stops a few steps from the landing when their eyes meet and for a moment there’s nothing but silence as they stare at each other. Harry watches as Louis’ face slowly drops from the tiny, sweet, upwards tilt of his lips, and into a frown.

“I don’t remember.” Harry chokes out, forcing himself not to gag. Louis’ eyes widens. “It feels like I’ve been raped all over again.” And, it’s not like he’s accusing Louis, it’s just that- _fuck_ , he can’t breathe.

Louis’ face crumbles though, a sob escaping before he slaps his hand over his mouth and turns to run back up the stairs. There’s frantic shuffling around for god knows how long, and then Louis returns, fully clothed.

The sunlight reflects in the tear streaks on Louis face as he passes the window.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry” he says over and over, voice borderline desperate and getting even more so when Harry can’t even look at him, just keeps staring motionless at the blank screen of the telly. He does react however, _flinches,_ when Louis touches him; so much so that the bowl of yogurt slips from his grasp and tumbles into his lap. Louis draws back quickly, another sob escaping his throat. “I’m so sorry.” He repeats. “I’m- I’ll- I’m gonna go. You won't have to see me again, _Harry_ , I _never-_ ” He cuts himself off, chokes out another sorry before half-sprinting towards the entrance.

Harry absentmindedly scoops the spilled yogurt off of the blanket as the front door closes.

  
He’s is still sitting in the exact same spot when his mum comes home from work. He has no idea how much time has passed, two minutes, two hours, it doesn’t really matter. His mind is still foggy and the television screen is still black and the blanket around his body is still stained with yogurt. It doesn’t take long for her to understand that something is wrong. She walks over and crouches in front of him. Her fingers are gentle as she strokes the curls out of his face, placing a chaste kiss to his forehead.

“Harry? Darling?” She asks tentatively, waiting patiently for a moment to give him a chance to respond. He doesn’t.  “Alright..” she murmurs so low Harry barely catches it. It probably wasn’t meant for him anyway. She turns the tv on, making the bright colors burn Harry’s eyes, and he blinks repeatedly and has to turn his head away to get his sight back. His mum takes advantage of it, places one hand on each of his cheeks to keep his gaze locked on her.

“Find something for us to watch, yeah? I’ll make us some hot chocolate. Marshmallows and whipped cream?” It takes a few seconds for Harry to realize he’s supposed to answer, but he finally nods. He takes another moment to just rub the back of his hands over his eyes. They’re unbelievably sore and dry, the sudden onslaught of blinks when his mum turned the tv on somehow making the stinging worse. The sound of his mum moving around in the kitchen is weirdly comforting, distracting him enough to forget all about the remote control in his hand. When she enters the room with two steaming cups, he belatedly pushes the button for the dvr folder and chooses a movie they recorded a few months back but still haven’t gotten round to watch because Louis said it wasn’t very good.  
She places the mugs on the table before carefully loosening his grip on the blanket and pulling it from him, gathering his bowl as well before she leaves, soon returning with a box of cookies and a new blanket that she drapes over him.

“Thank you.” He mumbles, his voice scratching his throat uncomfortably. She smiles softly in return and then presses play, leaving all questions behind for now.  
Harry knows his mum is dead tired, having just gotten home from a ten hour shift, so once they finish their drinks, he adjust so that they can both lie with their head on an armrest and their feet meeting in the middle. They fall asleep like that, blanket halfway covering them, and the movie still going in the background.

When Harry wakes up again, the recording has stopped playing and the clock on the display of their dvd player says 11:37. It’s Saturday, and Harry realizes he should’ve been at work an hour and a half ago. He scrambles - as quietly as possible - up from the couch and hurries up to his room, to his phone. He finds it on his bedside table and quickly scrolls down to his boss’ number.

“Hello.” Samuel answers cheerily after four rings.

“Hi, um, it’s Harry.”

“Harry! How are you?” He sounds concerned, and Harry doesn’t even have time to stutter out a reply before Samuel is continuing. “Zayn told me something had happened, and you needed a personal day, I hope you’re alright!”

“I, uh, yeah. Yeah.”

“Alright, just take your time and sort things out, yeah? Let me know if you’re able to come on Monday?”  
  
“I’ll- I will. Be there.”  
  
“Okay Harry, I’ll see you then! Take care of yourself, yeah?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”  Harry stares at his phone for a good minute after the call’s ended before he puts it down. It’s only then that he notices his surroundings. His bed is stripped of it’s bedding, the sheets nowhere in sight and the condom wrapper is gone, as is the trash bag that was in his bin. The window is open as well, fresh air rippling through the curtains and slowly replacing the stale scent of sex, and it’s with a jolt deep inside his belly that he realizes that Louis did this.

Louis took away the evidences so that Harry wouldn’t have to.

  
After redressing the bed, he lays back down and sleeps for another couple of hours. He wakes up feeling better, but still stays in the comfort of his bed. In some ways it feels like what happened was more of a dream than it was reality. To be fair, he hardly even remembers the sex itself, and the parts after he woke up are all jumbled and unclear, so it’s no wonder it seems unreal.

His feelings about it all are just as much of a sodding mess.

He feels like he’s been raped in the sense that, just like the night he _was_ , he was more intoxicated than the person he had sex with, and that he doesn’t remember.  
But. Louis is someone he knows, someone who wouldn’t hurt him, not intentionally. At least he thinks he wouldn’t. And Louis didn’t drug him, Harry being drunk was his own fault.  
  
Besides, knowing himself right, he was probably the one who initiated it.

Not to mention that Louis didn’t leave him after, he stayed, and then he apologized and then he tore off the bedding, even put them in the washing machine, and he aired out the room and threw away they trash and-  In many ways, it doesn’t feel like he got raped at all.

 

The feeling he gets when he sees that Louis has deleted him on facebook can’t be described as a good one.  
  
  
Harry texts Zayn around dinner time, saying thank you for covering for me, and that he’ll see him Monday. Zayn answers that it’s no problem, and asks how he is, and then there’s three x’s attached to the end.

 

 

\--

 

 

On Sunday he decides that he wants to talk to Louis. It simply feels wrong to leave it like this, so he texts him and asks him if they can talk. Louis doesn’t answer. He tries to call, but Louis rejects it each time. Then he tries to add him back on facebook and the request gets declined, three times in a row. He sighs and rubs his hands repeatedly over his face, but is interrupted halfway through when his computer makes a small _blubb_ , signaling a message.

_‘I know what I did was wrong. like, I’ve never regretted anything more in my life, I swear, and if you want to yell at me or tell me how disgusting I am, just.. Can you please write it here instead? I promise I’ll read it, probably like a hundred times. But I can’t, I just.. I really mean it when I say I’m sorry’_

_'I just want to talk to you Lou’_

_  
_ He doesn’t get a response.

 

 

\--

 

 

The first thing Harry sees when he walks into work on Monday is Zayn’s big, apologetic eyes. To be honest he doesn’t really like it. It feels wrong, like there’s not really a reason to pity him like _that_. Like last time. Zayn wraps him up in a very tight hug, as if he expects Harry to break any second. For a moment, Harry thinks he actually might. The feeling disappears as quickly as it came though, and he gently pushes Zayn away.

“I’m okay.” He says. Zayn clearly doesn’t believe it.

  
He keeps watching him during the day, all calculating and concerned. For some reason it’s unusually busy, making conversations nearly impossible, and the reassuring looks Harry tries to send back are promptly ignored - actually they seem to make Zayn even _more_ worried. It makes Harry’s stomach churn.

“Zayn, really, I’m okay.” Harry repeats, cornering him and putting his hands on his shoulders. Zayn bites his lip, eyebrows pinching together.

“Harry..”

“I mean. Like, I know it makes no sense, but, he didn’t really do something _that_ bad, and -”

“He raped you!” Zayn whisper-yells, failing a bit of the whispering part. Harry’s head whips around to see if any of their customers heard, and though no one is looking at them, there are a few suspicious expressions. At least Zayn looks a bit sheepish when Harry turns to glare at him.  
  
Their conversation is cut short as someone enters the cafe, and over twenty minutes passes before they have the opportunity to pick it back up. “He didn’t though, like, not really.” Harry argues.

“What do you mean _not really_ , he told me himself!”

“No but like, it was consensual when it happened. I fucked him, you know, I must’ve been rather conscious if I mana-”

“He rode you.” In a split second images of sweaty skin and low grunts flashes through his mind, gone before he truly can grasp them, though the feeling of them lingers. “Besides, you don’t remember!” Harry shakes his head, focusing back on the conversation.

“Well, no, but I know me, and I know I get horny when I’m drunk and that I would never ever turn down sex. No matter who it was.” He says, borderline pleading, just willing him to understand. “Especially not Louis.” He adds as an afterthought. “Listen, I just, I really want to talk to him, but he’s refusing to.”

 It’s with a heavy sigh and conflicted expression that Zayn nods. “I’ll talk to him.”

 

 

When he gets home, his mother is in the middle of pouring him a cup of tea and there’s a plate of nutella and peanut butter sandwiches sitting on table as well, crusts cut off just like she used to do when he was upset as a child. She extends the aura of caring mum as she smiles gently at him, waiting till he’s sat down and taken a sip before she speaks up.

“Louis came by earlier.” She says, her voice soft, as if she’s testing the grounds. Harry fights the urge to look around for him, even though he knows he’s not here anymore. Instead, he silently reaches for one of the sandwiches. “He dropped off some stuff, left with some of his.” She continues. Harry’s stomach churns.

“Oh.” He mumbles, putting the food back on the plate to take another mouthful of bitter tea instead. When he sets the cup down, she reaches over and takes one of his hands in both of hers.

“I know I am your mum, and you’re a teenage boy, and you’re not going to share everything with me.. But, you’ve always told me about your boyfriends in the past, and- you know you can always come to me, right? Even if you just need to vent.”

“I know mum, it’s not that I don’t want to tell you. It’s just- Things between Louis and I are complicated.”

“But he is your boyfriend? Or, was?”

“Not really, no. We never got to that point, I guess, and then I messed up rather badly, and then he did something, and now.. I don’t know. I want to talk things out with him, but he’s not interested.”

“So that‘s it then, whatever you had, it‘s over?”

“I don‘t know.” Harry shrugs, draining the rest of the tea. “I’m trying to figure it out.” He adds as he stands and kisses her cheek. “Night mum.” He takes two steps before he turns back to grab the plate with sandwiches, feeling the tiniest bit better when he catches his mums fond smile.

  
He looks through the bag Louis left on his bed right away. It’s nothing special, really, just a couple of t-shirts, a book, some boxers and a pen.  He’s not surprised though, seeing as he’s never actually been to Louis’ house - these are just things that Louis has nicked at one point or another.

He drops it off of the bed, and looks around his room to see if Louis found all of his own things instead.

He did.

 

  

\--

 

 

By Wednesday he still hasn’t heard anything from Zayn. He hasn’t tried to reach out himself, as he wants to give Zayn an opportunity to talk to Louis without Harry hanging over his shoulder.

When he arrives at work, Niall actually turns his back to the customer, in the midst of a transaction even, to hug him as soon as soon as he’s within reach. “How are you?” He asks, tone careful. Harry gives an awkward, apologetic smile to the old lady clutching a tenner.  
  
“I’m fine.” He replies, hip-checking him and tilting his head towards the woman in what is probably a very unsubtle way. Niall frowns, but does his job as Harry scurries to the back to put his things down and grab an apron.

“Do you know if Zayn has talked to Louis?” He asks once he’s returned.

“Um, yeah, I think it’s.. I think maybe tomorrow? Zayn will call you or something.”

“Alright.”  
  
He manages to avoid the subject after that, distracting Niall with jokes and banter, but Harry doesn’t miss the worried glances sent his way.

 

 

\--

 

 

Zayn sends a text telling him to come to his place around 6 the next day and adds that Louis will be there as well. It’s nerve wracking, as Harry has no plan for what to actually say once there. But, that’s what he wants, really. He wants to have an open, honest conversation where what he says is what he _feels_ and not something that has been thought through and processed a hundred times.

He listens to music on the way, volume probably loud enough to annoy the people around him, but it’s helping to keep his thoughts at bay. Even if he does end up mouthing the lyrics to himself like an idiot.  
  
When he knocks on the door he hears Zayn call out that he’ll get it, and when the door is torn open, both Liam and Zayn stands there, shoes on.

“He’s inside.” Zayn whispers, looking back over his shoulder.

“Um.” Harry starts, but Zayn shushes him, stepping out into the hall and urging Liam to follow before halfway closing the door behind them.

“Louis.. didn’t exactly agree to this. He doesn’t know you’re here.” Zayn murmurs. “We’ll leave you two to it.” He takes advantage at Harry’s stunned silence and frozen movements to grab Liam’s hand and run down the stairs, Liam turning his head to throw him an apologetic smile right before rounding the corner.

 

His heart thumps wildly in his chest as he closes the door, locks it after a moment's consideration, and toes his shoes off.

“Who was it?” Louis calls from the living room. Harry’s body freezes at the sound of his voice. There’s a lump growing in his throat and a burning sensation in his eyes and he stops and swallows and blinks and blinks and swallows until he has enough control over it to be able focus on anything else.

Louis is looking towards the doorway when Harry enters. His eyes grows wide when he sees him, and he bends backwards and forwards desperately searching for Zayn or Liam.

“They left.” Harry shares, as he slowly walks over to the couch, hands raised in a non-threatening position. “I, uh- I asked them to try to get you to change your mind about talking to me, and I thought they did. I didn’t know this was an.. ambush. Until I got here.” Louis still looks like he wants nothing more than to escape, his eyes are sort of wild, cataloging the room as if he’s planning a means of escape.  “Just, talk to me, please.” His voice sounds desperate, even to his own ears. It’s pleading, begging, and that isn’t exactly what he was aiming for, but It seems to do the trick though, because Louis finally gives in.

“Okay.” He all but whispers, head bowed as he fiddles with his fingers.

“I’m not mad at you.” Harry starts as he gingerly sits down on the couch, a full seat separating their bodies. Louis’ head snaps up, surprise written across his face.

“What?”

“I’m not mad at you.” Harry repeats.

“No, you should be furious! You should hate me and beat me to a pulp for christ's sake.” Harry can’t help but chuckle, making Louis gawk at him. “I _raped_ you Harry!”

“Not really. I mean, I wanted it too, didn’t I? Probably initiated it as well.”

“You don’t even remember it, you were pissed, and I made you fuck me anyway!”

“Yes, and that was wrong.” Harry concedes. “But it’s not like _I_ haven’t messed up things along the way.”

“There’s a difference between freaking out over a t-shirt and fucking raping someone-”

 “You didn’t rape me! You didn’t drug me, you didn’t try to hurt me. You just made a bad decision.” He argues, pausing before adding, “Besides, I cheated. That’s just as bad.” Louis doesn’t answer that, instead he stares at him as if he grew a second head, mouth falling open and then closing again several times. He’s silent, but clearly protesting nonetheless. “Listen.” Harry says, scooting a little closer so that he can place a hand on Louis’ knee, Louis eyes following the movement cautiously. “I know I freaked out on you, and-”

“I deserved that!”

“-reacted badly, but I just needed some time to think, to process it. And now I have.” Louis is shaking his head, probably in both disbelief and disagreement, but Harry continues before he has a chance to voice it. “Basically, we’ve both screwed up, okay, but if you’re willing to forgive me, then I’m willing to forgive you.” The fight in him seems to deflate at that, back slumping and chin dropping to his chest again. He seems so incredibly vulnerable.   
  
“I forgave you a long time ago.” He mumbles quietly, gaze locked on the carpet, or maybe it's his feet, pigeon-toed with his heels raised, restless, quivering slightly. He’s jittery, that much is easy to tell. Uncomfortable. Insecure. Fragile too, somehow. Harry puts a hand under his chin to tilt his head up, and then gently slides it to his cheek, thumbing along his cheekbone and making Louis twist enough for Harry to seek out his eyes.

“And _I_ forgive _you_.” He says, and it hits him then, just how much he means it, how certain he is.

“You shouldn’t.” Louis protests. It’s a weak attempt though, his posture and tone easily giving him away, and they both know it.

“I don’t blame you for this Louis, and I need you to stop blaming yourself.”

 Louis sighs, shrugging and moving his head out of Harry’s hold. “I don’t know if I can.”

“I swear to god; I wanted it, just as much as you. Probably more.”

“You were drunk, you don’t remember-”

“I know myself, and I know my thoughts, and I know my feelings.” He cuts in, voice stern and unwavering. Louis gears up, obviously wanting to protest further, but Harry silences him with his very best death stare, leaving a heavy silence instead, one the lasts for several moments.

  
“Can we just.. start over?” Louis finally asks, hesitant and uncertain in a way Harry has never seen before - yet, there’s a small, hopeful glint that settles into his features, and it blooms into pure relief when Harry nods in agreement. “And be honest and open and actually communicate?”

“Forgive and forget. Clean slate and all.” Harry replies, though they both know this is far from over. It simply isn’t the kinda thing that you could forget, it’s the kinda thing you c _ouldn’t_ forget - it needs to be talked about, needs to discussed. Harry needs it and Louis does too, if the guilt radiating from his is anything to go by. Try as they might, it will affect them for quite some time, and it should, shouldn’t it? Ignoring it is not going to make it easier to move forward.

  
But for now, this is enough, and they both settle for it. They’ll work on it for sure, but that doesn’t mean it has to be brought in as the base for their second try.

Louis’ hand slides over his, thumb runing over Harry’s knuckles twice.  “Louis?” Harry asks, twisting his hands so that they line up. He waits till Louis looks at him and then intertwines their fingers. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

 

 

 

 

 

Louis smile is enchanting. Always has been. Always will be.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> All feedback is very much appreciated, whether it be critique, something that needs to fixed, or something nice! You can always hit me up at tumblr


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